


vacivity filled only by your dodrantal love

by onebreathyboi



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aged Up Nihachu, Alpha Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Alpha Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Boys Kissing, Dream needs consent, Explicit Consent, Grinding, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insecurity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No beta we die like lmanburg, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Omega GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Omega Karl Jacobs, Pack Dynamics, Real Names, Reincarnation, Safe Sane and Consensual, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Showers, Soft sex, True Mates, dream and sapnap are like... homie homies, dream as clay, i dont know why i made them so homiesexual, im not even sure which ship im writing this shit is so homiesexual, it makes sense i explain it dw pog, kissing the homie type homies, like a good alpha, minor minx/niki/wilbur, saviour dream, wilbur and george are brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:49:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28592790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onebreathyboi/pseuds/onebreathyboi
Summary: vacivity: emptinessdodrantal: a word that describes something nine inches longWithout turning around, his saviour spoke shakily, “Are you alright?”The words were stuttered out with shaking breaths, his beach sand and fresh palm scent stuffing Georges’ nose. It took every ounce of pride and self control to not bare his neck right there and present for the dominant alpha.“U-uh yeah, I’m fine,” His accent bled through his words, odd vowel sounds controlling his sentence.“That’s an odd accent,” The blond alpha chuckled out awkwardly, “are you from here?”George goes into heat on the bus in Florida and is saved by a mysterious blond alpha. Said alpha drops him off at his home and.. leaves? Maybe it's worth looking into this stranger alpha.I do NOT ship the people, just the characters, but i dont like looking at the word sapnap and dream in writing so they are nick and clay respectively.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 133
Kudos: 849





	1. melting into the seats

**Author's Note:**

> some subtle things in this: im a weird grammar nerd so  
> dream is referred to as blond (male) and george is brunette (female) yes that is on purpose, to show that omegas take on a traditionally female role and are referred to as such.  
>  uh; packs are a thing in this and clay and nick are in a pack, pack bonds are lifelong platonic bonds that are solidified by a bite. pls dont get confused with my saying clay and nick have bitten each other  
> the use of real names is not an attempt to ship the people, i just dont like seeing the igns in writing.  
> this work WILL be removed if one or more creators expresses displeasure with it.

Even a rainy day couldn’t solve the overarching problem of his life. 

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Slick ran down his legs, coating the bus seat with sickly sweet fluid, clear in colour and sticking his jeans to his thighs and gluing his ass to the chair. The atmosphere of bus 404 flipped faster than a spongebob burger on a busy day. Necks nearly snapped, turning to scent the air, itching to find the source of such a succulent scent. 

George pulled the hood over his eyes, sinking into the blue fabric in an attempt to drown in his shame. Frantic sniffing could be heard from every corner of the bus, invading his ears and licking at his embarrassment. The shuffling of feet broke his stupor, drawing his eyes from the hem of his hood to the blond alpha standing in front of his cowering form. Oh fuck. _This is it, I’m gonna die_ , that mantra repeated filling every agonizing second of the alpha being in his space. 

Growls rang on the bus walls, forcing his neck to tilt in submission and release the calming scent of soothing apples and clean vanilla. The air in the bus changed once more, whimpering from previously posturing alphas now filling the transport. More slick poured from his small body and the alpha guarding him started to shake. 

Without turning around, his saviour spoke shakily, “Are you alright?”

The words were stuttered out with shaking breaths, his beach sand and fresh palm scent stuffing Georges’ nose. It took every ounce of pride and self control to not bare his neck right there and present for the dominant alpha. 

“U-uh yeah, I’m fine,” His accent bled through his words, odd vowel sounds controlling his sentence. 

“That’s an odd accent,” The blond alpha chuckled out awkwardly, “are you from here?” 

Oh, he was making conversation while protecting him. George swallowed a whimper. 

“No, no, over seas,” Words were hard in the face of a providing alpha and heat consuming his mind. 

“I knew that,” He wheezes, pulling George from his pheromone drunk state, “Where?”

It’s now when the bus sharply turns, throwing Georges’ body in the back of the alpha standing dutifully in front of him. The blond inhales quickly, physically shaking with the effort it takes to not ravage the foreign omega behind him. 

George scrambles to push back into his seat to his slick puddle, the viscous fluid suctioning him to the plastic with the force. 

“Where’s your stop?” The alpha asks while remaining standing and facing away, knuckles white with his grip on the handles. 

“Next one, the stop is right outside my apartment,” He says, hands balled into his blue hoodie and hoodie strings pulled tight around his face. Easier to hide than face the back of the alpha. 

The seconds pass in agony, no words spoken after Georges’ declaration, silence filled with heavy breathing of the alpha and whimpering of the lesser alphas around him. A scarce glance up and George can see some omega women plugging their noses and betas ignoring the scene around them. 

The bus soon inches to a stop and the alpha turns to gently tug on Georges sleeve, finally facing the omega head on. He’s stopped dead by the deep green eyes and haloed blond hair of his saviour. 

“C’mon, you’re here,” He says softly, motioning to the bus doors while moving to exit with the omega. George stands, wincing at the dark puddle on the seat before shuffling to the fresh air. The alpha steps out first to ease the omegas primal fear of being hunted. 

George follows the alpha out the doors and to the front of his apartment building. The blond stops, before turning away to walk back towards the bus stop. 

“Wait!” George grabs the arm of the alpha, electric shivers being sent through his body at the point of contact. 

The sudden jolt of electricity startles the pair, turning the taller man towards the shorter. 

“Spend my heat with me, alpha, please I trust you,” Tears well in George’s eyes, face pink with the effort of standing and general embarrassment. 

Stiff as a board, the alpha turns away. His posture is rigid and the air smells of angry sea storms and tossed up sand. He shakes and breathes deeply, eyes scrunched shut and mouth in a thin line. 

“Sorry, stranger, you’re not in your right mind,” George is almost disappointed he didn’t call him _omega_ , “call me when you’re sober!” He says, taking his phone out and thrusting it in the British mans hands, trusting him to input a number. George breaks through the heat to enter the contact, typing in _George (bus omega)_ along with his number. The mysterious alpha snatched his phone back and turns to speed walk away, leaving the omega shivering with heat at the bottom of his apartment stairs. 

His phone buzzes, screen displaying an incoming text when he reaches to unearth the offending object from his pocket. An unknown number reads:

_(***)(***)(****)  
hi im clay the alpha from the bus  
text me when ur safe and home_

George quickly names the contact for the alpha before stumbling into his apartment and collapsing against the front door. He shakily pulls out his phone and shoots the alpha- no, _Clay_ ,- a text saying he made it home, then promptly dropped the object and stumbled to his nest to soldier out the next few days of his life.

*  
**  
*

_I’m going to die,_ Clay thinks, too sure of his fate after meeting that omega. What omega goes into public knowing their heat is close? He takes a deep breath of scentless air to clear his head, filling his lungs and calming his mind. Okay, Clay, lets think. 

Was he - _George_ \- a mated omega? Likely not, considering most alphas don’t want their beloved partners to leave the house into danger and posturing competition. 

Did George go out for an essential service? Did Clay miss any objects in his hands while guarding him? No, he didn’t take anything off the bus. So, why was that omega - George, dammit - out in the first place? 

Clay pushed it from his mind to focus on the bus stop seats, the one his hands are near bending from the force of his grip. Behind him sits the apartment with an omega in heat, begging to be mounted, filled, calling Clay alpha --

He takes a deep breath again. God he needs to touch some grass. 

The bus seats honestly can’t take much more, in poor condition from weather and the bear trap grip of his trying to squeeze life out of a lifeless object. Where is a patch of grass when a man needs one? 

Soon enough, the bus squeals to a stop with the telltale noise of the brakes releasing air, before the doors open and the crowd flows out. He boards and sits in the back, glancing at the chair where George sat looking for a puddle of slick belonging to the smaller male. Realistically he knows someone cleaned it up, either out of necessity or respect for the man. 

_Am I a fucking creep, looking for this omegas slick?_ he thinks, wincing at the thought. He rides the bus back to his home, sending Nick a text that he had to cancel the mall trip and strapping in for a day of teenage-like jacking off. God, he feels 12.

Stepping into his Florida home, worth approximately seven hundred thousand dollars but only fitting a small family, he is greeted by Patches and Nick lounging on his couch. His nostrils flare and Nick rapidly turns his head to the alpha, tilting his head in an attempt to avoid a fight. They stopped fighting for dominance when they were 15. It was no longer a fight that needed to be fought. 

“Woah, dude, what is the matter with you?” Nick asks accusingly, neck still tilted in submission. Clay would win, they both knew it. 

“Sorry, something happened on the bus, little riled up,” He says, trying to reel the scent of agitated alpha from the air though Nick keeps his wrists and palms face up anyways, “some dumb omega went into heat and I helped him home.”

Nick inclined his head for him to continue speaking, knowing that wasn’t this full problem. His best friend doesn’t get frazzled this much by an omega in heat. 

“Nick,-” He sighs, then takes a deep breath, “he called me alpha and begged me to stay, I almost did. Now, I’m stuck posturing against the alphas who tried to get him on the bus and the pheromones of an idiot.” Oh, that makes a lot of sense. 

Nick lets out a submissive sound and Clay’s body relaxes, the threat of an alpha in his home placated by his total submission. No need to tear out any throats today. 

“What was his name?” Nick asks, breaking his submissive whine and filling the tense silence. Clay takes a shuddering breath and blushes hard, slipping his hands into his pockets and turning his face away- an acknowledgement of Nick’s submission and a reminder: even relaxed, he can and will beat any alpha around.

“George, that’s what he put in my phone,” He says behind a smile, face igniting at the memory of such a pretty omega begging to be knotted, bred, mated-- Jesus, where the _fuck_ is grass?

A surprised sound left Nick, causing Clay to whip his head from it’s docile position staring at the wall and glare at Nick. The shorter male resumes his purr, though his eyes ask _You got his number_?

“Yeah, I got his number when I left, that’s when he begged me to stay,” Clay sighs at the memory, growing restless remembering his sweet apple and vanilla scent. Patches leaps from Nick’s lap and saunters to Clay, bringing with her soft comfort and softer fur. His scent eases from raging tropical storms to docile waves and swaying palm trees. 

Nick raises his hand to ask a question, to which Clay snickers. 

“Yes, you, in the back,” Clay says with a smile, pointing at Nick on the couch. Nick feigns surprise by looking around and pointing at himself, to which Clay nods. 

“Finally, teach! Don’t be offended Mr. Phillips,” Clay glares at the use of his last name, though Nick ignores it. “Are you going into rut soon? You aren’t normally this weird around omegas.”

Clay perks up at that suggestion, going to sniff at his wrist. One strong whiff and Clay’s face twists into a grimace, before nodding at Nick. The shorter alpha flinches a little, surprised at just how much control his fellow alpha has. He protected and helped an omega in heat home, an omega who invited him to share his heat, all while being on the cusp of his own rut. What was this man made out of?

“I’ll go stay with Karl, you can work this out,” Clay nods stiffly at Nick’s words, “text me when it’s over, okay?” Normally, Nick would leave with a hug; not a good idea when he’s on the cusp of rut and possessive about some random omega. 

The native Texan slips through the front door, leaving Clay to live through his rut. 

*  
**  
*

Four agonizing days of constantly needing to be filled, thinking about that blond alpha behind him, filling his womb with seed and pups. 

\--

Four days of fucking his hand and knotable toy, dreaming of that brunette omega squirming under him, taking his hard cock and drinking up all his seed, whimpering and begging to be bitten. 

*  
**  
*

The morning of day five George finally can go an hour without needing a knot. He wakes to a sticky bed and naked body, his sheets bundled and soiled. His stomach rumbles violently, taking priority over cleanliness. After that harrowing half week, he was nowhere near godliness. 

He crawls from his destroyed nest and stumbles nakedly to his kitchen, rummaging blindly for a water bottle and a granola bar. When both objects are found he rests on the couch, ravaging the messy snack and downing the water. His entire body aches and stinks, thighs covered in slick and stomach coated in dried cum. 

His feet carry him to the bathroom, body running on autopilot through the entire process. The warm water liberated his skin from mess, running his sin down the drain. His parents never did like his omegan nature, his sinful nature, always focusing on the eldest child; the perfect alpha. 

Wilbur, his _perfect_ alpha brother, ran the show. Amazing grades, soccer skills, always pulled beautiful and well mannered omegas. George, however, found his heart in coding and staying inside, the evil sun beating his skin and scaring him away from any type of outside activity. 

Their parents thought; he’s just anti-social, he’ll come out of his shell when he presents as an alpha. George solidified their disappointment when he started to slick, create nests and constantly be near his brother. 

He really needs to call Wilbur, it’s been too long since they’ve spoken. Whenever home berated him it was Wilbur who picked up the pieces, comforted him when no one else would. His brother remains the only family he contacts. 

The shower dribbled to a stop, leaving George cold and standing in his daze. Eventually he stepped out, toweling off his frail body before searching for his phone amidst the wreckage. He slips on some pajamas during his search, finding the phone at the front door. 

Opening the device displayed the text from the alpha who saved him, Clay. He blushed, recalling the fuzzy memory of begging the poor man to stay. George shot him a quick text, just to introduce himself properly. 

_clay (bus alpha)  
hey its george the omega  
from the bus  
can we meet up so i can thank u?_

His frail hands switched to his brothers contact smoothly, pressing the call button and lifting the phone to his ear. 

It rang.

Rang. 

“Georgie!” His brother always sounded like he was beaming whenever they talked. George chuckled at his bigger brothers enthusiasm, god help if their parents found out Wilbur acted so childish when talking to his younger brother. 

“Sorry I couldn’t talk, I was in the middle of my heat,” Wilbur made an acknowledgement on the other side of the line, “and boy, do I have news.” 

George spent the better part of an hour recalling the situation to his brother, who laughed and asked to meet the guy who saved his baby brother. Definitely not to size him up, no way. The story went something like this. 

The day of work had started out simple enough, little hot all day but nothing too extreme. It’s Florida heat, so constant mugginess and sweating was expected. It was when his boss had scented the air around him that he became conscious of the heat around him. 

_”Sorry, it’s so hot today, I don’t mean to smell like sweat,” His manager sniffed again, causing George to blush, “Hey, I don’t smell that bad do I?”_

_“Excuse me for asking this, but are you nearing your heat?” Although it was a question managers were legally allowed to ask, it still startled the short male._

_“Uh, I don’t think so?” He pulled his wrist to his face and sniffed before his face dropped in realization. “Oh my god, I didn’t know it was this close, I’m so sorry! I can work the rest of the day but I’ll need to take my heat leave,” His accent made apologizing sound much more genuine. His boss nodded before leaving._

Needless to say, he didn’t make it through the day. Wilbur listened through the usually uncomfortable heat and alpha talk, but he never was the one to care. George’s speaking sucked up the hour, unrealizing until Wilbur yawned over the phone. Oh, right, it’s 3pm over there and Wilbur works the night shift. 

“Dude, if you needed to sleep you could’ve said so,” George says dismissively, silently encouraging his brother to sleep from across the ocean. 

“No, no,” His sentence breaks with a yawn, “I don’t know when I’ll get to hear your voice again so it’s fine. Mom and dad have been unbearable, I needed a familiar voice. Don’t worry, pipsqueak!” George politely ignores the name and focuses on Wilburs previous statement. 

“They’ve been unbearable?” George asks, voice laced with concern. Why does Wilbur always think it’s his job to deal with their parents? 

“Yeah, just trying to set me up with some omega women,” He says, voice sad and words bringing a realization to the omega. 

“They don’t know about Niki?” George asks, to which he is met with silence. Guess not. 

“I’m gonna go now Georgie, keep me updated about that alpha!” Before George can say goodbye, the line is dead.

*  
**  
*

Stumbling out of his room, Nick surprises Clay by sitting on the couch with Patches in his lap. 

“Dude, I thought you were stayin’ with Karl?” His apparent nakedness doesn’t bother him around Nick, the pair accustomed to physical closeness. 

“Uh yeah, he went into heat and I bit him- not enough to mate, but now we’re a scent marked pair for a little. I had to leave otherwise I was gonna mate him,” He said, face burning with blush and hands fideling in his lap. 

“So you… left your scent marked omega during his heat? Dude, I didn’t think you were that cruel,” Clay responded, not at all bothered by Nicks declaration of a potential new mate. Being packed together had its benefits. 

Nicks face flew into flames, “No, Jesus, no! I left went it was over to let him think over being bitten by me- you know, in case he actually wants to bond soon…” His legs crossed, throwing Patches from his lap. Clay just laughed and slapped the back of his head. 

“I’m kidding dude, let me go change and we’ll talk.” 

Clay was gone before Nick could argue.


	2. smooth vodka bandaids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bunch of shenanigans i wrote during my first hour then continued at midnight. i am so sorry if its terrible feel free to lob tomatoes at me in the comments  
> i am very tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry this is shorter i know i am cringe  
> this is my first time writing a chaptered piece so trying to push out chapters on an regularish basis is harder than i thought  
> im lamechamp im sorry

Returning from his room, Clay plopped down on the couch mildly clothed. He pulled Patches into his boxer clad lap and pet her soft fur, mean claws scratching lovingly into his thin shirt. 

“So, tell me what happened,” It wasn’t a request, it was an order from the head alpha in their little two man pack. Clay was scouting Karl’s worthiness to be in their pack. 

“Well, I went over there,” Clay rolled his eyes and looked at his imaginary watch, “Fine. He went into heat the second day I was over. I could tell, he smelled like honey that was so sickeningly sweet I thought he had a fever,” Nick recalled, moving his hands along with the story. 

“I asked him if he wanted me to leave when he grabbed my shirt and begged me to stay- as alpha. I just kind of forgot how to breathe and the rest is history. We shared his heat, I bit his neck to scent mark him, he bit mine,” He pulls his shirt collar down to display Karl’s teeth marks, across the neck from Clay's own pack bonding marks. 

“So you guys are properly courting now?” Clay asks, running his fingers over the indents on Nicks neck, eliciting a shiver from the younger alpha. Clay laughs and draws his hands away, question obviously answered. Nick nods anyways. 

“So, when do I get to size up the lovely sounding guy?” Nick blushes at Clays request, body tensing up and a growl starting in his throat. Clay quickly kills it with a responding growl of his own, one that says, _I’m still the head alpha here._

“Sorry, it just makes me nervous to have him around the pack head,” Clay knows the feeling, between asking Nick if he wanted to pack together and asking his own father permission to leave the family pack. The leader ultimately decides if another person joins their found family. 

“I’m gonna let him in, Nick, I won’t say no,” He laughs and slaps the shorter males back, “if he’s your omega I have no issue. I just wanna meet the guy.”

Nick lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“We can set something up when I’m comfortable with his heat being totally over,” Clay wheezes at that, clutching his stomach and hitting his head on the couch, scaring Patches from his lap. “Du-de, I’m not gonna st-e-e-al him, I’m interested in that other om-ega-,” His laugh breaks up his words, sound growing louder at Nick's embarrassed face. 

Nick punches his shoulder, to which Clay pounces on the younger alpha. Nick grins, fighting to reach dominance over Clay. The stakes: head alpha. A lower ranking alpha fighting the head alpha is always a challenge. One that Nick always loses. 

One squirmish later and Nick is pinned on the floor under Clay, huffing as Clay bite down on the pack mark. Nick goes limp in submission, giving into the dominance of the other. 

“You’ve gotta stop fighting me Nickie, you always end up like this,” He said while pulling himself from Nick's body, reaching his hand down to help the defeated man up. He takes the hand in compliance and lets Clay pull him up. 

“I’ll win one day,” Clay wheezes again and ruffles the hair on Nick's head.

“No, you won’t.” 

That’s the end of it.

*  
**  
*

George checked his phone again for a response, to find nothing on his screen. Did he misread the alpha? Giving your number to an omega seems like what someone who wanted to meet up would do. Almost as if staring at his phone had willed a text into existence, his phone buzzed and illuminated the words for his eyes to read.

_from: clay (bus alpha)  
hey sure! just tell me when!_

Seems easy enough and open ended. George responds quickly enough to make himself cringe.

_to: clay (bus alpha)  
im open any day  
want to grab lunch tomorrow?_

Is that too soon? George doesn’t have long to ponder before his phone buzzes again. 

_from: clay (bus alpha)  
yeah absolutely   
food court? its open spaced and  
diverse unless you wanted privacy? ;P_

George already regrets asking, though he laughs at the boldness and general silliness of this alpha. How did he know that he was scared to meet him privately? 

_to: clay (bus alpha)_  
sounds good  
ill be there at 1 so show up 

He cringes at his own rudeness but swallows it down, setting his phone on the counter instead to start the process of psyching himself up for tomorrow. There are many tasks he needs to accomplish; for starters, cleaning up his wreck of an apartment. 

He has no plans of bringing the kind alpha home, just saying his thanks and maybe paying for his meal. Still, he picks up the destroyed nest in his room anyways. Blankets are tossed into the small apartment washing machine, thankful for relatively acceptable appliances within his home. 

Grabbing sheets from the closet, he replaces the ones soaked in dried slick and cum, throwing that bundle into a pile awaiting washing. George quickly fixes his bed, leaving the materials to be washed near the machine before starting onto the rest of his apartment. 

There are dishes in the sink from nearly a week ago, collecting dust and smelling of stale dish water. With a grimace he rinses them out and tosses them in the dishwasher to be cleaned, then moving onto the lackluster fridge configuration and food assortment design.

Nearly 5 hours of finding meaningless things to clean plus multiple loads of laundry, and he’s finally ready to call it a day. Has he been stress cleaning? Yes. Was it in case that alpha came over and he needed to prove his competency at providing a nest? Definitely not that super specific scenario.

The clock on his dingy white oven blinks 6pm, the sun tragically dying in the sky. The horizon is dipped in what he assumes are red tinged colours, though brown for his terrible eyes. Fuck, alphas don’t want broken omegas, they don’t make good litters.

Wait, what? What was that thought right there? George, the unmateable George, did not just think that thought. Litters and pups did not cross his mind, no sir. Must have been a glitch. He’s not capable of courting, let alone bearing pups, especially not for that alpha that deserves a stronger and better breeding omega.

Oh my god, what did that alpha do to him? George sprints into the bathroom to check his neck for bites, trying desperately to pin this wanton desire for this alpha on something rather than his own want. 

A frantic searching of his neck finds him empty handed and broken-hearted. That alpha hadn’t bitten him, which made him sad to a degree.

No, not today. George promptly stomps over to his liquor cabinet for a hard drink, reaching for the special case of nice vodka his brother had given him. If he was going to make it through the night without jerking off to that alpha, he was going to need something 151 proof. Thank god for his alcoholic brother.

Pouring himself a glass, he adds ice, cranberry juice and a splash- scratch that, nearly two shots- of vodka in the cup. He stirs quickly, eager to down the smooth substance and make another one. God, did Wilbur know how to buy amazing vodka. 

George whips up another one and takes it to the couch this time, flipping on his small TV with only slightly drunken ease. A day of coming down from heat and barely eating was not conducive to drinking, though it did make the process faster.

He turned to a show he had been enjoying on Netflix, Love Death Robots, and leaned back into the couch. Sipping a well made drink while watching amazing animation was something he’d have to do more often.

When his glass proved empty, he set it down and returned to watching the episode. Though he didn’t watch for much longer as his lids grew heavy and sleep clouded his mind. He only had half a mind to pause for exhaustedly curling up with a couch blanket and falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, @skook7 on twitter ill figure out how to embed links some day  
> really really sorry this is so short cringe


	3. thermodynamic equilibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally meet pog?
> 
> this is what happens when you dont have a plan for a story and just write shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gl understanding this shit bruh  
> its one of my dreams to have someone make fanart of my fics so pls feel free my twitter is embedded at the bottom  
> hey also my grandfather just passed from covid and ive been exposed so i might be a little late to my already weird schedule  
> but i have a lot of time off school cuz of exposure pog?

Both men awoke that morning in different houses but with the same goal: meet the mysterious man on the bus.

*  
**  
*

Clay woke to the blessed sound of Nick snoring into his armpit, face buried into his side. The taller alpha wiggled his way out of Nick’s grasp and pulled the blanket over his sleeping pack mate, who snuggled into the warmth and smell of the pack. It was normal for packmates, especially ones who had been in a pack since adolescence, to sleep together. This act alleviates the anxiety of not being aware of who you’re supposed to protect and how you’re going to protect them. 

After stumbling carefully from the cage-like grip of the shorter male, he walks toward the kitchen to burn some of the hunger gnawing at his stomach. Even though he had just been out of rut, he didn’t eat much on account of Nick, who had eaten before he arrived back at their shared home. 

God, that head alpha thing plays a lot into his daily life. No need for the alpha to eat if the pack has eaten, my ass. Clay quietly cursed his biology while pulling out the milk for cereal. Pouring the cereal first, then the milk, like someone normal, drew Nick from their bedroom and into the kitchen.

He plopped down on the island chair and waited for Clay to make him a bowl, like he always did. Stupid head alpha bullshit, he could easily be mistaken for a simp. Clay mindlessly retches at the thought of simping for Nick, then puts the bowl down in front of him. Heavy on the milk as Nick prefers. Jesus Christ.

“So, you’re goin’ to see that omega today?” Nick asks, bringing the spoon to his mouth while rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Uh yeah, how did you know?” Clay asks as he reaches over the island to wipe an eye crustie from Nick’s face. He hums in acknowledgement and continues shoveling cereal into his mouth.

“I have your phone password fuckass, I do go through that shit,” Nick says it like it’s just talking about the weather and not his personal privacy. Clay doesn’t get angry and just watches Nick spill little droplets of milk on his shirt, _Clay’s shirt_ , to be exact.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet him at the mall food court at 1pm, or so he said,” Clay recites the knowledge like Nick didn’t read it himself. The younger alpha snorts and motions for Clay to spit out anything more on the subject.

“I’m gonna bring him a gift,” This makes Nick’s eyes go wide in surprise, chest heaving from the gasp of cereal milk he just inhaled.

“You’re gonna what? Dude, get to know him before you start courting!” Nick says it like the statement itself is sacrilege. Giving an omega a gift on the first date? Only fated couples would do that, and nobody knows who their fucking fated mate is!

“I don’t know man! I just have the need to,” Clay pauses a second, blood draining from his face, “I have the need to provide for this random omega.”  
Nick drops his now milkless bowl and stares at his best friend in shock. It goes against every instinct to provide for a stranger, especially a stranger of a lower dynamic. It isn’t very good survival practice to try and take care of everyone. People usually pick based on past relationship experience - like Nick and Clays’ friendship -, not on instinct. Needing to provide for someone on instinct is a reliable indicator of a deeper relationship to be had or has been had, like if someone was reborn. 

All of this information seems to pass through both of their heads quickly, as Nick gets up from his chair and wraps his arms around the tall male. 

“The only time people are true mates is when two people continuously meet and mate in each lifetime, you know that yes?” Nick asks Clay, who nods in his arms. “The universe decides that two people belong together, yes?” Clay nods again.

“And you know that instinctively needing to provide is an amazing way to tell if someone has past life experiences together, you know that one too, yeah?” Clay nods again, burying his face in the shorter mans’ hair. “You know what I’m trying to say here, yeah?”

The arms around Nick tighten, the rumbles coming from the blond mans chest vibrate through Nick. Clay is purring at the thought of this omega, which cements the thought in Nick’s head.

There is more to this relationship than two strangers.

*  
**  
*

Waking up on the couch after a night of hormone-induced drinking was unpleasant as it sounded. The taste in George’s mouth was abhorrent and the curve of his spine had now been realigned. 

Moving his body off of the couch elicits horrific popping from every bone, especially his vertebrae. He moves as if his limbs were jello and he was just a slime monster. Jiggling over to the bathroom, he violently brushes the taste from his mouth. 

A look in the mirror shows dark bags and unruly hair, which George decides he needs to fix right that instant. He spits out the toothpaste and turns on the shower, waiting for it to heat up before disrobing in the cold bathroom. 

When he spots steam he pulls the curtain pack and steps in, backing away from the stream slightly at the heat. He reaches his arm through the water and turns it down, stepping fully into the stream when it reaches an acceptable temperature. 

He washes his hair with the fancy shampoo he bought on a whim and scrubs his body till the top layer of his skin is down the drain. 

A lengthy shower process later when he feels as close to clean as he can get, he steps out. He wraps a towel around his torso and rubs one through his hair, scratching deep at the itch behind his ear. The second towel is used to pat dry his now hairless body - not hairless for the alpha, surely not - soaking up every visible drop of water on his form.

Nothing can stop the freezing blast of air that forces his nipples to a point and dick to shrivel impossibly smaller when he steps from the humid air of the bathroom. George dresses but keeps the towel wrapped around his hair to absorb stray moisture before he goes to blow it dry. 

The outfit now adorning his body is a pair of baggy skater cargo pants and a loose blue sweater appropriate for the weather outside. Despite Floridan winters being mild compared to the freezing air of England, he still feels unnaturally cold. Maybe it’s the pale skin, maybe it’s the fact that omegas run cold while alphas run hot in order to reach a perfect thermodynamic equilibrium, who knows. 

He shakes the thought from his mind and moves back to the bathroom to blow dry his now slightly damp hair. 

One agonizingly loud process later and his poofy hair is accompanied by the outfit that swallows him whole. He throws on some accentuating makeup - not for the alpha to think he has better features for breeding, nope - and slips on some platform-like black vans. 

Throwing himself one last look in the mirror, he slips his keys and other nefarious items into his pockets before leaving the apartment for good. Time to face the alpha.

*  
**  
*

Clay’s eyes scan through the crowd at the food court, tall figure searching for the petite omega he knows to be his ‘fated’. His hands slip into the pockets of his red hoodie, anxiously fiddling to ground himself. He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans to check the time again.

12:56pm.

The ragged sketchers on his feet strain as he pushes himself onto his tippy toes once again, eyes seeking purchase for the man he saved.

The smell of the male hits him before he can see him. 

Honeyed apples and clean vanilla blind his eyes, noses inhaling deeply as the damn near aphrodisiac-like scent coming from near the entrance. One swivel of his head and Clay can see the omega standing there, searching for the alpha. Their eyes meet and Clay could swear he went feral.

The smile that lights up the face of the brunette could melt iron and Clay decides it’s worth fighting the stars to keep that smile on his face. 

George makes his way to Clay smoothly, slipping through the crowd like sand through children's fingers. He stops in front of the alpha, avoiding his green eyes like they would sting. 

“Hi,” Clay forgot about the british accent. 

“Hello,” George forgot about the silkiness. 

Clay pulled the chair for George to sit in before taking his own, scrunching his legs up as a courtesy for his fated-but-only-suspected mate. The alpha pulls out a gift for the male, setting it gently on the table and scooting it towards the shorter man. He preens when the omega accepts it, looking in and finding a hoodie of Clay’s sitting at the bottom.

A gift of a personal scent bearing item on the first real meeting? George was in for a ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ my twitter lovelies ](https://twitter.com/skoonk7)  
> i figured out how to embed links


	4. self restraint blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys meet and maybe uhhhh ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY THIS IS 3 DAYS AGHHGHG  
> ive been so busy not pog  
> follow my twitter at the bottom youll get updates about the updates 2k chapter pog?

Clay rubs the back of his neck bashfully, immediately rethinking his entire life. This poor omega doesn’t understand what’s going on, and is probably calling the police under the table. Oh fuck, it’s all over, he’s going to be thrown in jail and labelled a-

“I love it, thank you,” George says, slipping the fabric from the bag and over his head. The sleeves bunch at the hands and he absolutely drowns in the fabric and the scent, being coated in everything that screams Clay.

Said alpha stops functioning and stares, releasing a pleased scent and rumble, gazing at the small man. George purrs instinctively in response, staring just as intently back. He soon catches his purr as Clay catches his rumble.

George’s eyes go wide, mouth open into the perfect ‘O’ shape, plump lips curving to fit the letter.

“Oh, my, fuck. You- you’re - you’re my?” Clay nods at George’s stuttering, face flushing red with confirmation. Seems like George just realised the predicament they’re in.

“Fuck, no offense to you Clay, but this isn’t what I wanted yet,” Clay looks on the verge of tears at that, to which George resumes his purr in comfort and grabs his hands, “I wanted to court you first so I could get to know you, not be forced into this. The issue isn’t my mating you Clay, I’ve been thinking about it all day, it’s my lack of choice. Understand?” His british vowels wrap around the words, though don’t soften the blow. 

God, what was Clay thinking? That everything was going to be perfect just because they’re fated, that George wanted him too? How could he be such a fool, ready to jump into a lifelong relationship with a man he met on the bus?

“Listen, alpha, this isn’t the place to talk about this. Let’s go back to my apartment and I’ll give you a drink and we’ll figure this out, yeah?” Clay beams at George’s words, eye bright and gleaming. An omega, the one he knows is _his_ , has invited him into his nest after accepting his gift? The alpha might bust with pride.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll order us some food and we can talk business?” He says, offering his hand to George to take, waiting patiently for his response. George takes the hand and lets Clay pull him from the seat, then slips his fingers into the alpha’s and doesn’t let go.

For protection, he thinks, it’s hard being a small omega.

Clay leads them to his car, one he doesn’t often use. Public transportation is usually easier in such a metro area, though Clay needs to have alone time with George. 

Clay almost cries with pride when George doesn’t hesitate to step into his vehicle. George trusts him that much already? The air smells of beachy waves and swishing palm trees, Clay’s happy scent soaking everything around him.

He steps into the car, bringing his scent with him, to which he is met with the ferocity of the omegas' own sweet apples and striking vanilla. One sniff proves Clay’s theory: George smells amazing when he smells like the alpha.

The drive to George’s apartment and almost concerning for the omega. Clay didn’t even need his address to find the best way to get there. George should be worried, though he is only touched that the alpha remembered. 

They arrive swiftly, Clay rushing to open the omegas’ door and hold his hand out. _Is he preening? What a silly alpha,_ George thinks, letting himself be pulled along by Clay. When they reach the steps of the building the blond stops and lets George take over.

The freshly cleaned apartment pleases Clay subconsciously, primal brain ecstatic at the thought of the omega making such a pretty nest. The brunette leads him to the couch and tells him to sit, going to make drinks quickly. The alpha looks like a long island iced tea kind of guy, and George needs him to be on the drunker side quicker. Makes the talking much more honest.

After mixing drinks he returns to the couch, handing the alpha his tea. Their fingers brush and he feels like a teenager as sparks roll through him. He had thought the electricity from last time was because he had been in heat, not because they were fated. 

George sits on the opposite side of the couch, trying desperately not to get close. Not sure what he’ll do with proximity, though he just now realised that he had invited an alpha, _his alpha,_ into his nest, which he had specifically cleaned just for him.

Oh god, why can’t George think?

“So, uh, what colour is this hoodie?” No, stupid, don’t bring up your flaws when he’s literally in your home. The omega scolds himself but goes on, the words can’t be taken back.

“You can’t see colour?” Clay asks, genuinely surprised though his face doesn’t scream pity like it should. Instead, he looks… proud?

“No, I can’t. I can’t see red and greens, so my favourite colour is blue,” He says, lifting the alphas hoodie to reveal the blue sweater underneath. He also motions to the blue and yellow decor filling the apartment.

“Wow, you’re so cool!” That reaction is not one George has ever heard before, “You must be hella tough then!” George flushes bright red and buries his head in the sleeves of Clay’s hoodie. Big mistake as he inhales, lungs filling with his intoxicating scent. 

George remains silent, to which Clay scoots closer. He presses his hand to George’s forehead and reels back.

“You’re burning!” Clay takes the omegas face into his hands and looks him into the heterochromatic eyes, golden eyes glaring into his own, “Unless, it’s something else?” George frantically nods at that.

Clay releases his face and backs away, folding his hands into his lap. 

“The hoodie is green. We should talk about this.” Fuck, George was trying to forget.

“It’s obvious we’re fated mates, we wouldn’t react like this if we weren't’,” Clay takes the lead, much to George’s relief. “You accepted my courting gift, I hope you realise that.”

George nods and buries his face in said courting gift, causing Clay to stir in the spot. Fuck, George has no idea what being buried in his scent and clothing does to the alpha. 

The omega pulls himself from his scent-addled stupor and opens his mouth to respond.

“I did realise, that’s why I accepted it,” George says it like it’s an obvious fact. The omega disappears into his room and brings back a small bag, which he thrusts into the alphas lap. Clay looks at him for permission to open it, to which George nods. 

Inside is a blanket, one from George’s nest that he cares deeply for. He figures, _Hey, if we’re fated might as well go all in._

Clay beams at the gift and pulls it out and over his body, lathering the beautiful scent all over himself. He snuggled into the blanket and tucks it up under his neck, crossing his legs to fit all of his lanky body inside. 

“Seems as though you reciprocate my courting?” Clay asks, smirk evident on his stupid blond face. George curtly nods and pulls the hood over his head, hiding his face like he did that day on the bus. Red rushes to his faces, igniting the freckled features with blood. 

Fuck, Clay did not mean to think about that day on the bus, especially not in the omegas apartment, who is currently accepting his courting- fucking hell.

The already tense air floods with soft beach sands and lingering palm trees, coating every surface in a palpable layer of his pheromones. George takes notice of the change in the atmosphere and releases his own caramel apples and sharp vanilla to rise against Clays’ scent.

George giggles at the strangeness of the situation, breaking the tension and causing Clay to wheeze out a laugh too.

“God, I cannot believe this is happening,” Clay says between wheezes and rubbing his eyes of tears. “Nick is gonna be so pissed.”

“Yeah, I know. Wilbur isn’t gonna be happy either,” The syllables are twisted with the accent, but not so much that it throws the younger alpha off.

“Wilbur?”

“Nick?”

They ask at the same time, igniting another round of laughs. Clay motions for George to explain first. 

“Wilbur is my older brother, I told him about you,” Clay blushes at his words. “He wanted to meet the alpha that ‘saved me’, but now he’s definitely going to fly out here to meet you!” He says it with an exasperated sigh. 

“I’ll have to meet him then. Nick is my pack mate,” Clay says, pulling down the blanket and collar of his shirt to reveal Nicks’ faint teeth marks on the left side of his neck. “Guess we both have omega’s that need to be introduced to the pack.” 

The older male hides his face in the hood, trying to crawl away from the meaning those words held. Clay is in a pack, and George will have to join because that’s what omegas do for their alphas. Oh god, _my alpha_? George might as well be fated to two people, with his alpha being in a pack.

“You’re the head right?” He asks, popping his face from the cave of Clays’ hoodie.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Clay runs his hand through his hair, turning his face away bashfully.

“You just have the energy of a head alpha,” George says, completely unaware of what those words do to the alpha in question. 

Clay whips his back to the omega, face growing darker and air changing yet again. The room shifts into something heavy and stirred on by the alpha. His omega thinks he’s a capable alpha, one who he thinks can run a pack? How is a man supposed to let that one go?

“You think I can provide for a pack?” The words are loaded with a double meaning, one George catches onto quickly. He fights back against the flip in the atmosphere, flooding the room with his own scent to clear out Clays.

“I think you can provide for a pack, especially one filled with pups. You seem like the type to be a good alpha for pups.” George knows exactly what he’s doing, pushing all the buttons of this alpha.

Clay groans and shifts under the blanket, face filling with blood, turning impossibly redder. He stays sitting, not moving at all. Fists clench tightly under the comfy object, teeth grinding into nubs with restraint. The alpha isn’t moving until his omega says so.

George continues egging on the alpha, pushing him to the edge to see how long it takes to topple him over.

“Bet you’d made the prettiest pups, be the best alpha dad you could be. You’d raise amazing litters,” George’s head rushes, power trip fueling this new found confidence. Yet the alpha doesn’t move. 

The omega knows what he’s doing to the alpha, he has to. He still doesn’t move, instead breathing deep and tightening his lips into a thin line. Not until the older male says so.

“Such beautiful pups you’d make, blond and green eyed. That tan skin, tall figure. You’d make such strong alphas,” George doesn’t make a move towards the alpha, instead throwing a rope and hoping he latches on like a dog. God, he’s towing a thin line.

“ _Omega,_ ” Clay grits out, rumble deep in his chest. George tilts his head at that, eyes going wide when he realizes. His neck is exposed to the alpha sitting across the couch, reminiscent of the time on the bus.

Oh no. Oh no, what has he started?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ my twitter lovelies ](https://twitter.com/skoonk7) pls follow i need to feel validated  
> as always comments and kudos are appreciated and fuel me ACCORDING TO AO3 STATISTICS - no im jk  
> im so sorry if there are any errors i needed to slam this out real fast


	5. piles of clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they finally FINALLY frick  
> probably not what you guys wanted but eh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls i really like the though of dream being really human-like when people dont expect him to be. i always see fics where hes a superhuman godly buff man but like,,,, he is not. that man is achingly human

“Omega, do you want whatever this,” Clay motions his hands to the tense air, “is?”

George nods tentatively, eyes downcast in his lap and fiddling with the hoodie sleeves.

“Words, omega, I need them.” George tenses up at his commanding words.

“Yes, alpha.” Oh no.

Clay emerges from under the blanket, fists clenched and rising to his full height. He towers over the sitting omega, stalking closer with slow steps, allowing time for the omega to opt out. No such words come from George.

Once he reaches the edge of the couch where George sits, he stops and stares down at him, green eyes boring into heterochromatic eyes. 

“One last check, do you want this?” Clay asks, nails digging into his palms with the effort of standing there.

George tilts his neck. “Please, alpha.”

Immediately Clay lunges on top of the shorter male, smashing their lips together with enough fervor to tilt the couch back. The alpha runs his hands through George’s hair, tugging his fingers through the tangled strands. George keens and leans back into the pull, breaking the kiss and allowing access to his neck.

Clay freezes up and jumps off of George, pants growing visibly tighter. “Where is your collar, I don’t want to bite you yet,” He gasps, face red and shoulders trembling with effort to stay still. “Do you have any knotable condoms? Can’t have pups yet, mamas.”

“Uh -buh, yeah, first door on the right in the top left drawer near the bed,” George sputters, not trusting his legs to retrieve the items himself. He watches the alpha basically sprint to the room before calling out, “I don’t have any knotable condoms!”

An audible groan emerges from his room, followed by a pretty blue collar. In the alphas' large tan hand, the collar looks delicate. Just imagine if that had was around his throat, pushing lightly and restricting his blood flow- fuck he needed to be railed by this alpha, _right now_.

“Fuck, okay. I’ll be right back, I need to get those,” Clay said, dropping the collar near the omega and going to slip on his shoes. George lets out a pathetic whine, stopping the alpha in his stride. 

He doesn’t turn around, just opens the door with rickety movements. “I’ll be back, omega.” Then he’s out the door. 

He isn’t gone for more than ten minutes, coming back through the door red faced and with a bag in hand. George writhes on the couch, hand in his pants and collar sitting pretty on his neck. He jumps up at the smell of his alpha, running to jump into his arms. 

Clay catches him and brings him to the bedroom, closing the front door with his foot before walking to drop the smaller male. He leaves the bag near George, who takes a peek inside at the contents. 

_L Condoms with Knotable Capability_

Walking back into the room after locking the front door, Clay spots the omega gaping at the box of condoms on the bed. He chuckles and stalks over, like a predator cornering prey. George scoots up on the bed, hoodie covering the hard-on he had been cultivating when the alpha was gone. 

“Pretty pretty baby, so skittish. I’m not gonna hurt ya’,” The words didn’t sound completely honest, laced with an intention to do exactly what he said he wouldn’t do. When Clays’ knees hit the bed he crawled on top of the cowering man, covering his entire body with his giant form. 

Clay sharply inhaled, nostrils flaring at the terrifyingly aroused scent emitting from the brunette on the bed. His hands caged the smaller man's head, one leg slipping between his thighs to rub up and down. He looked down in surprise at the sudden wetness near his knee, pants soaking with the excessive slick the omega was creating.

George was slicking. Out of heat. Fuck, that true mates shit is the real deal. 

George attempts to close his legs, blocked only by the alphas thigh that’s settled between said legs. The thigh that is now covered in his slick, soaked to the skin with his arousal. The omega closes his eyes, shutting the lids tight to avoid the embarrassment of the whole situation. 

Clay suddenly backed off of his body, forcing Georges’ lids open to peer slightly at the retreating alpha. He whined suddenly, throwing his clothed hands over his mouth to cover any more sounds. 

“George,” the blond sighs, adjusting his pants. “Do you want this?” 

The older man sat up on his hands, pushing himself up so he sits cross legged near the headboard. He slips his clothed hands into his lap, fiddling with the loose sleeves of the alphas hoodie. 

“Uh, I don’t know. I’m nervous,” He admitted, face down turned and completely red. Clay cooed at the smaller man, eyes filling with adoration for the nearly stranger of a man. 

“It’s alright, we don’t have to,” Clay said, adjusting his pants once again and backing farther from the omega.

“No, no! I want this, I’m- I’m just nervous,” It felt wrong to admit he wanted something sexual with the alpha, his mothers voice filling his head with doubts. Omegas who have sex outside of mating are sinful, lust is a disease. 

Clays’ hand startled him from his stupor, rough fingers rubbing his cheeks and pulling their faces closer. He lays a soft kiss on his lips, smile breaking on his face when he sees the surprised expression on the omega. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.”

It starts softer this time, less throwing-on-beds and pulling-at-clothes. Rather, Clay strips first, tossing his shirt to the side and crawling back to George near the headboard. He sits a couple inches from his crossed legs, hands reaching to tug at the hem of the hoodie. The blond waits for permission to remove the article of clothing, only moving after receiving a nod from the omega.

He lifts the hoodie and blue sweater underneath off, dropping them unceremoniously off the bed side. They land with a soft whoosh, quiet sound furthering their peaceful atmosphere. Clay looks at George again, reaching for the waistband of his own jeans, waiting once more for permission to remove. 

George nods, watching with rapt attention as Clay is left only in black boxers. There’s a soft pudge on his stomach from slouching, lean body folding in comfortingly human ways. The hard-on through the underwear isn’t as intimidating with Clay looking so startlingly normal in his bed. 

The alpha points at Georges’ pants, indicating that he would like to remove them. George does it himself, wiggling out of the pants and dropping them in the growing laundry pile. They’re both left in boxers, sitting on the bed of Georges’ Florida apartment, shivering slightly in the cool air. 

As if they both have the same idea, they gravitate towards each other's source of warmth. Clay pulls George into his lap, sitting the omega a comfortable distance away from his dick. The slick staining the back of Georges’ underwear touches the alphas thighs, shiny substance laying itself on the bare skin. 

The omegas knees cage Clays’ lower thighs, his arms wrap around the blond's neck while returning arms settle onto his waist. 

“Hi,” George says, face red and eyes staring directly into Clays’.

“Why hello there,” Clay says back, cracking a Star Wars joke to break the tension. Both men laugh and shift into a comfortable atmosphere, George soothed by the alphas' ability to defuse. 

Clay leans into the omegas face when the dust has settled and silence has enveloped them again, kissing his nose before moving around his face. The alpha peppers kisses on his eyelids, his cheeks, reaching up to his forehead and down to his chin before finally reaching his lips. 

When they meet for a second time, the same sparks from the day of the bus incident return, lighting up both men with a warming fire. The usual electricity is culled into a soft warmth, urgency gone from their movements. 

While George is distracted with kisses, Clay moves his body up in his lap, settling the shorter man onto his upper thighs instead of lower. They shift easily, lips remaining locked through the readjusting of positions. George starts to grind unconsciously on the lean man, hips moving slowly against hips. 

The alpha grinds up in response, arms leaving his hips to settle on the boney ass of the omega. He handles him softly, pulling the omega up the final few inches so their clothed cocks finally touch. George gasps lightly and Clay takes the opportunity to slip a tongue into his mouth, not demanding in its exploration but curious. 

The slick leaking from the brunette stains now on the edge of Clays’ boxers, air mixing their scents together beautifully. Sweet honey apples and clean vanilla on a Florida pier, with the palm trees swaying gently with the calm waves. It’s like their scents were made to be together.

Hips moving on hips, mouths moving in tandem, hearts beating as one. Clay breaks their long kiss for air, staring into the heterochromatic eyes of his partner. He slips a finger into the waistband of Georges’ boxers, waiting for an answer to his silent question.

George nods and feels Clay dip his hand into the back of his boxers, calloused hands gripping the sharp bones of his hips through the thin fat of his ass. The omega wants to shrivel away from the touch, insecure about the boney nature of his thin body. Clay seems to understand, massaging his ass lovingly. 

The alphas fingers run lightly down to his asshole, growing wet with the excess slick being produced. He ghosts over the entrance, only pushing in lightly when he gets a nod from George. The hole is sopping wet and soft, loose with arousal and stretching from the day's previous heat. 

Georges’ collar jingles lightly as his head rests on Clays’ shoulder, pushing back onto the intruding finger with soft back-thrusts. The alpha adds another finger, searching for the special spot within the omega while stretching him. When Georges’ body tenses and stills, Clay knows he’s found it.

He pushes on his and feels George muffle a sound in the skin of his shoulder, skin vibrating with the omegas sounds. Clay adds a third and final finger, intruding into the soft hole and stretching George to avoid hurt.

There’s a dainty scratching of nails on his shoulder blades, dull nails digging into skin with pleasure. Clay shivers and pulls out his fingers, forcing a soft whine from Georges’ throat. 

“Alpha, don’t stop..” A pout paints the omegas lips, eyes glossy with happy tears as he pulls from Clays’ shoulder to meet his eyes. The alpha uses a clean hand to wipe his tears, kissing the trails with feather-light touches of lips. 

He pulls George off his lap gently, pulling off his tented boxers and reaching for the box of condoms. The smaller man gapes at the revealed length, staring at the surprising prettiness of it. It’s flushed a deep red with blood, curved to the left slightly and dusted lightly with freckles. _Does he go to a nude beach to get freckles there?_ George thinks as his eyes travel to the neatly trimmed blond hair resting at the bottom. 

Clay slips on a condom, flushing red all over at the intense stare. His body folds down a little, tummy softly wrinkling from poor posture. Only after a light motion to Georges’ own boxers does he remember to take them off. 

When the offending article is on the ground with its brethren, Clay pulls the older man into his lap again, settling their cocks together. George gasps at the sudden movement and touch on his hard-on, ass freely leaking slick without the restraint of boxers. 

The alpha kisses around the collar, trailing up to his ear and nibbling on the lobe.

“Can I?” He asks, breath hitting directly on the ear and words penetrating his brain. 

“Yeah, you can.” George settles his cheek on top of the alphas head, keeping his face smothered into the crevice of his clothed neck. 

Clay doesn’t seem to mind, moving them so that George is lifted up with strong hands and the tip of his covered dick is lined with the loose hole. 

He pushes in when he lowers the man, letting the omega set the pace on top. It takes a few minutes for their hips to flush together, George sinking slowly onto the length.

There’s a strong grip at his hips, fingers flexing with the effort to stay still inside the omega. George finally moves his cheek from Clays’ head, bringing their lips together easily and nodding at the alpha. 

Suddenly, large hands lift his body before letting go, letting gravity drop the man back down. Clay bites his lip, groan building in his throat and shoulders trembling to keep the omega on top. 

The omega takes over, lifting his own hips with his thigh strength before sinking down once more, starting a medium pace. Clay catches on to the tempo, hands helping guide the omega with their strength to avoid stress on his thighs. 

When that spot is hit, George cries out and settles into his lap, grinding down to rub against the spot again. 

“Fuck sorry,” Are the only words George hears before his body is manhandled up and slammed back down, faster pace startling the brunette. 

George lets it happen, alpha surprisingly attuned to the omegas’ body, angling his hips to nudge the spot with every thrust. Soon they’re both a moaning mess, bodies entwined and souls coming together like the universe intended. 

Clays’ knot swells at the base, catching on Georges’ rim with every bottoming out. The sudden stimulation on his rim catapults him to pleasure, cock twitching with the cum boiling inside. 

“Sorry, sorry, gonna knot,” Clay says before one last decisive slam, locking the knot in place and grinding up into the condom. He reaches for the omegas cock and jerks it till cum pants their stomachs and the only sounds left are pants. 

George returns to his body a few minutes later, head lolling onto the alphas shoulder, viewing the bite mark of his pack mate. 

“You’re gonna have to introduce me to him,” He mumbles, words slurred and muffled by Clays’ shoulder, though the alpha seems to understand. 

“Yeah, after we talk a little more about this,” Clay chuckles before carefully moving their tied bodies to a lying position, jostling the knot and spurting an extra bit of cum from Georges’ cock. 

“Whatever you say, alpha,” Are Georges’ last words before falling asleep in the arms of his fated with a comfortable weight in his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ my twitter come yell at me ](https://twitter.com/skoonk7) come scream at me for not posting it gives me motivation


	6. pulling back the shower curtain to see you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys have a nice after sex shower with lots of love  
> oh nick calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fanart and fan-made spinoffs are so appreciated and wanted pls link me using my twitter  
> this is surprisingly 2k words? doesnt feel like it at all

George awoke when the weight in his behind had lifted and caught Clay in the middle of pulling out, sleepy eyes opening to the alpha and observing him wiggling the rest of his deflated knot out of his hole. Clay smiles when he sees George opening his eyes, bringing his large tan hands to rub the small sleep crusties away. 

“Good morning, it’s been about 45 minutes,” His hand runs through his hair, resting on the back bashfully. “My knot really didn’t wanna let you go.” 

A groan sounds from Georges’ throat, head flopping back into the pillow, breaking his gaze with the alpha. He hears a chuckle and feels the bed shift as Clay rolls off, footsteps thumping softly on the rug as he walks to tie and dump the full condom. 

The bedroom door opens as Clay searches for a trash can, feet switching floors from wood to rug and the sounds changing with them. He comes back condomless and covered in goosebumps, naked body basically launching into the warm embrace of the covers and George once he returned.

George turned and snuggled his face into Clays’ chest, nose smushed into the soft meat of his pectoral muscle, warm breath fanning onto his nipple, forcing the pink bump to rise. Lean arms wrapped around the omega, strength pulling them into a half-sitting position with Clays’ back resting on the headboard and George resting on his chest.

“So..” Clay trails, voice hesitant and scared. “We’re courting but we’ve done this all out of order, ya’ know- fucking and all.” He says it with a chuckle and it vibrates pleasantly under Georges’ cheek.

“Well, introduce me to your packmate and take me on a date. We don’t have to do this traditionally,” George says, british vowels wrapping around comforting words, soothing Clays’ anxiety. 

“Yeah, okay. His name is Nick and he’s got an omega that I have to meet so maybe we’ll do a double date?” Clay lays the idea and lets it sit in the air, waiting for George to absorb the words. 

“Okay.” George lays his head back into Clays’ chest and closes his eyes again. 

“That’s it?” Clay asks, leaning his neck down to peer at the omega. 

“Yup, that’s it.” His British accent makes the words sound so mean. Clay releases a sad scent, which is battled by Georges’ comforting one. The alpha moves suddenly, throwing off the covers and thrusting their naked bodies into the freezing air. 

Strong arms wrap around Georges’ form, tightening and throwing the omega over his shoulder with a yelp. His pale ass rests near Clays’ cheek, skinny legs flailing to find purchase in air.

“Clay! What are you doing!” Though the words are supposed to be aggressive, George doesn’t make a move to be set down. 

“We need to shower, you’re covered in slick and honestly? I don’t think you can walk,” His words are smug and filled with pride, causing Georges’ upper body and face to flush. He wants to disagree, fight back, but Clay isn’t wrong. 

George lets himself be carried through the chilly apartment and into the bathroom, to be set on the skin and miss the warm embrace of Clays’ arms. He watches the alpha walk away, eying his ass as it bends to turn on the shower. The younger man's head just barely scrapes the ceiling of the shower, the water only reaching to his chest comfortably. 

Clay waits for the water to heat and returns to the omega on the sink, resting his body between the spread legs of the man. The sexually charged air is broken with Clay’s soft kisses, lips catching lips lovingly while the water heats.

The alpha smiles into the kiss, breaking it for a second before George rushes to recapture his lips. They battle now, Clay prevailing with a quick bite to his bottom lip. It’s only when the bathroom fills with steam do they part for air, Georges’ arms wrapping on the alphas’ neck to be picked up. 

Clay wraps his hands around the smaller man's thighs and hoists him onto his hip like a toddler, pulling the shower curtain aside and stepping into the water. George relaxes into the warmth of the spray and the comfort of the embrace, letting Clay decide the pace for this shower. 

The pace is set when Clay reaches for the bath puff and layering it with Old Spice soap, rubbing the item over the exposed skin that he can reach. Clay taps onto the older man's hip, indicating the coming drop, though it doesn’t prepare George for the stress of standing on his jell-o legs. 

He rests heavily on Clay, only moving to allow easier access to parts of his body to clean. With his eyes closed, George doesn’t expect the kisses peppered on his skin after each swipe of the bath puff. 

The omega melts into the caressing touch, pecks pressed on clean skin, marking the map of his soft pale body. Soap swirls down the drain, water pelting on the pair with a relaxing embrace. Eventually, the treatment stops as Clay switches to shampoo. He sits George down, settling behind him to rub Head&Shoulders into soft brown locks. 

Long fingers scratch at a sensitive scalp, rumbling purr sounding from George as he leans into the touch. A matching purr from Clay and the bathroom is filled with contented sounds and smells, loving air thick from the boys rumbles. 

Clay pushes George directly under the water from their sitting position, using the time it takes to rinse to quickly wash his own hair. George turns to give Clay a kiss and laughs at the ridiculous look of his soapy fated. 

“Oh my god, you look so enamoured, hold on,” He says, turning in the embrace to face Clay head on. His lanky arms reach up and rearrange the soapy hair, turning the hair dark with water and soap into a mohawk. George laughs and Clay smiles, pulling the omega into a hug. Their chests are pressed together under the spray, rinsing the mohawk from his blond hair. 

If Clay could describe this moment, he would. Georges’ gleaming grin and soapy skin, water shining on the surface of his body, lighting up the droplets with the reflection of miniscule bath light. 

The alpha is brought back to reality when shampoo enters his eye and he screeches for help. 

“Fuck, George! How could you let it get into my eye?” His yelps of pain filter through Georges’ hysterical laughs, the pair moving so Clay can look directly into the water. With frantic rubbing and harsh blinking, the sting subsides. The laugh that accompanied the sting does not. 

“I’m so sorry!” The words are said through hiccups, “I didn’t realize!” 

Clay pouts and rubs his eye again, shampoo having washed from his hair when he stepped under the spray. His face relaxes and he rinses their bodies off one last time, turning the shower off. 

“It’s okay,” He grabs their different towels, first using Georges’ to dry the elder himself. Small sounds of resistance are killed when George attempts to stand on his own. He lets himself be toweled off, sitting on the seat of the toilet to watch the alpha next. 

With an audience to view him, Clay makes a show of drying off. The towel starts at his shoulders, moving slowly down the lean muscles to his nipples. He tweaks them a little bit, earning a laugh from George. Act Two of the scene, Clay lets the towel hang limply on his dick, the only covering for the organ being held up by the organ itself. 

Only with another swipe of the cloth does he turn around, bending over and comically drying his ass, though the bathroom is devoid of laughs. The alpha turns around to check on the elder, only to find his eyes wide and cheeks flushed. 

“George..” His voice is soft. “Did you get hard?”

Said omega covers his face and nods his head, water running down his back with the movements. He shivers, and Clay takes hold of his face through his hands. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you.” Kisses pepper the exposed skin.

There’s a rustle of fabric and George peaks through his fingers to find the small towel wrapped around his waist and a hand waiting to be taken. He reveals his burning face to take the offered appendage, allowing his frail body to be pulled up into the embrace of the tall man. Skin melds with skin and all is well. 

Their spell is broken when a phone rings somewhere inside the house. They both sigh and set to find the ringing noise. 

Clay finds it in the bedroom in the laundry heap, revealing the screen to both males. It reads, _Nick the Dick_. George giggles and motions for him to answer it. 

“What’d’ya want, fuck face?” He answers, slurring his words and surprising the omega with his tone. 

“Good morning, stupid whore. Spent the whole time getting fucked while I was worried about if you were alive or not! I mean, of course I knew cuz of the whole - you know - pack thing? Whatever, you get the point, you stupid fucking nimrod!” Nicks’ voice sounds through the shitty speakers of his phone, filling the bedroom with the long-winded yet short spoken rant. 

“Hi, I’m the one the stupid whore banged,” George says before Clay can object, british words sounding while Clays’ eye grew wide. 

“George!” The blond exclaimed, covering the microphone of his phone. He sent George a glare and was met with a laugh.

“There’s the lucky boy that my personal brain anti-wrinkle cream has been talking ‘bout!” Nicks’ words are muffled through Clays’ skin, though still heard. 

“Oh fuck off, shit-for-brains, I’ll fuckin’ kick your grimy hairy little ass!” The alphas face turns red and veins pop with the anger and effort of that sentence. 

“Hey, I’m still here?” A tentative word.

“We know, George.” Both men say at the same time. Chills crawl up Georges’ back, threading his skin with goosebumps. 

“God, pack mates are weird. He’s all yours Nickie, I’m kicking him out anyways.” His aloof words are said as he walks toward the bed, legs wobbling with the effort to walk correctly. 

“That isn’t what you said when you were squirming in my lap-” Clay laughs, evil grin shining on his freckled face. 

“Clay!” George whips around to see Clay snickering and taking another breath.

“You shoulda heard him, Sap, he was a crying mess in my arms-” The sentence is cut off. 

“Stop it!” The omega shrieks, attempting to lunge for the phone but legs failing him. Clay drops the object and catches the falling male, deep thump sounding through the room. 

“I’m not gonna ask what that sound was,” Nick breaks the silence with a laugh. “Just think about coming home yeah? I need you to meet Karl.”

“Oh! Speaking of,” Clay sets George on the messy bed. “I was thinking, maybe a double date? Introduce us all to each other?” His words are tentative, like he’s really scared of a rejection.

“Yeah, cuz I need to be introduced to you again,” Nick chuckles through the shitty speakers. “Sure, just tell me when and I’ll tell him.”

Clay releases a breath and looks to George with hope in his eyes, to which George nods. 

“He said yes, so I’ll set up a place. Bye now hobgoblin, I have an omega to attend to.” Clay only listens for a second after to hear Nick’s response. 

“Bye human embodiment of malaria!” And another soft ‘Bye honker!’ in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ my twitter again ](https://twitter.com/skoonk7) hi im back sorry i took a little weekend break  
> uh obvi double date here soon  
> please leave comments and kudos they make me feel so good


	7. scraping metal chairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was so difficult to write and i feel like it is absolutely terrible  
> all the boys go on a double date for the first time  
> this was written while listening to daft punk during my first hour when i got approx 2 hours of sleep the night before and it has not been betad or even proof read so it is absolutely incomprehensible   
> i have been informed that is not where the beatles are from and honestly? its funnier to not change it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love joking about if dreamnap will become cannon in this fic  
> sorry i love stupid modern restaurants with dumb food names  
> this doesnt feel like 2k words it feels like 400 and i am so sorry

After hanging up, Clay plonked down on the bed and put his head in his hands. George scoots over and wraps an arm around Clay, snuggling his face into the crook of Clays’ neck. With an inquisitive purr, George waits for an answer in comfortable silence.

“It stresses me out to think of Nick, I don’t know,” He sighs and leans into the arm around him, cheek resting on the omega man's head. “Rejecting you? I know he won’t, and he can’t disagree if I accept you into the pack, it’s just-” His chest racks with another heavy sigh. 

“It’ll be okay, he sounds like he’s eager to meet me,” George whispers in the skin of Clays’ neck. “Let’s get back to your place so you can get ready and go meet them yeah?” 

A short trip back to Clays’ house on the bus, the same bus that they met on, and George is sitting on the couch, waiting for Clay to emerge from his room in a new outfit. They had showered so Clay skipped that step, instead just emerging from his room in black cargo pants and a gray tank top, the two articles of clothing from opposing seasons but clashing perfectly. 

All George can do is stare at the lean arms of the tan man, watching the way the dark pants hug his legs and shapely ass. Why did the alpha have to get the absolute dumpy? 

Clay whips his phone from one of the various pockets, each one seemingly their own dimension as Clay pulls out chapstick from another of the endless pockets. With one tan hand, he texts Nick a location for the date and with the other hand opens and applies chapstick in a practiced motion. George watches the movements with rapt attention, eyes following the flick of his fingers as he smoothes the substance over pinkish lips. 

Noticing his audience, he adds another layer with slow movement, letting the oils slick and shine his lips. He pops his mouth and slips the chapstick back into one of the pockets, Georges’ eyes now glued to the shine of his mouth.

Clay smiles and watches the stare trace the shift, baring his slightly yellow teeth, stained from coffee and canines glinting smugly in the living room lighting. 

“Having fun there?” The alpha asks, stupid smug smile lighting up his face in amusement. George is startled from the object of his fixation and looks up into the presumably green eyes. 

“A blast.” He responds, his own smug smile finding its way onto his face. 

The pair laugh and the odd tension breaks just like that. George lifts from the couch to meet Clay halfway through his stride, hooking his arm through the taller mans and allowing himself to be pulled to the front door. 

“Ready to go, my liege?” 

“Absolutely, my fine knight.”

*  
**  
*

They arrive at a modern looking restaurant, the light wood of the doors complimenting the harsh concrete angles of the inside. Outside sits Nick and an omega, presumably Karl, who rises to meet the pair approaching. 

“Dickie!” Clay calls, wrapping his arms around the younger alpha, rubbing their packed scent glands together in greeting. 

“Clay, we just saw each other, you’re being rude to Karl.” At the mention of his name, the omega perks up from beside the shorter alpha. Clay backs off with one last claim and turns to the omega, who seems to be taller than Nick. 

“Hi! I’m Karl!” The omega - Karl - offers his hand to be shaken, only to be enveloped into a hug by the blond man. From beside the hugging pair, both of the left out men bristle in their stances. This seems to remind them of the others' presence. 

“Hi, George, right?” Nick asks, though George can only smell his alpha and comfort radiating from the new alpha.  
“Yeah, Nick?” George is met with a nod and the two shake hands, turning to find Clay releasing Karl from the embrace. 

“I like this one!” Clay says, returning to Georges’ side and rubbing his neck onto the top of the dark hair to soothe the agitation. “Didn’t take you as jealous.” Clay whispers into his scalp, receiving a harsh elbow in response. 

He backs off with his hands up in submission, ignoring Nicks’ sharp laugh and Karls’ muffled snort. 

“Shall we?” Clay asks the group, motioning to the doors before grabbing Georges’ hand and tugging the shorter male into his side. The blond alpha watches his pack mate do the same to his omega, opening the door for the pack alpha and soon-to-be head pack omega. 

The couples are seated soon, modern chairs with V-shaped metal legs scraping against the concrete ground as they sit, wood table filling with eager elbows. Once the process of getting comfortable finishes, the group is covered by awkward silence. 

Bravely, Karl breaks the silence. “So, you’re the head alpha Nick never shuts up about! Almost considered having you two mate with how much he talks about you!” His nasally voice jokes, causing a table-wide relaxing of shoulders. 

“Well I’d hope he’d like me, we’re packed for life!” Clay jokes back, resting his hand on Georges’ bouncing leg in the meantime. His thumbs massage smoothly in an effort to alleviate the growing anxiety. Alternative music fills the silence after that, menus dropped off by an enthusiastic beta waitress. The group seems to busy themselves with the menu, pointedly avoiding the appetizer talk. 

Nick, the ever brash soul, breaks the silence this time. “I want whatever these _Backbreaker Bbq Nachos_ are, wanna share ‘em?” His statement lacks class and the appropriate tone for the delicate atmosphere they’ve been sharing. The alpha inhales sharply when Karl steps on his foot. 

“Yeah, sure.” George says this time, having been the first time he’s spoken in front of them all. Karls’ eyes seem to light up at the sound of his voice. 

“You’re British!” He exclaims, laugh joining his excited words and hands clapping happily. The enthusiasm throws George off kilter. 

“From Manchester, home of the Beatles..” His voice trails out like the topic makes him uncomfortable, and Clay picks up that thinking about home probably does just that. 

“Uh, Karl! Where are you from?” Clay interrupts whatever stream of questions was going to fall from his hoodie-clad form. Thinking about the omegas attire, is that one of Nicks’ hoodies? More accurately, a hoodie Nick stole from Clay and is now being worn by a different omega than George? The thought doesn’t sit right, though it’s pushed to the back of his mind. It’s not like Karl did it on purpose. 

“Oh, Virginia, actually. Came to Florida because something just- just told me to, ya know? Does that make sense?” His loud voice quieter now, like the topic is something unknown even by the speaker. 

“Yeah, I know exactly what you’re talking about.” Clay responds, though distantly thinks that the pair is probably true mates like they are, though both men seem too dumb to figure it out themselves. The blond leaves it. 

Whatever conversation is interrupted by the same beta waitress, back to take drink orders and food orders. Clay orders the nachos and something called a _Eighth Wonder Burger_ along with a lemonade. Seemingly American order. The other two Americans order similarly, leaving George to be the odd one out. 

“I’ll take uh- your eggs and sausage with a biscuit instead of toast?” He asks the waitress more than orders, shying away from the looks he’s receiving from the American crew. She nods and takes their menus, leaving to presumably put their orders in. 

“George, it’s like, seven at night?” Clay asks the question that the other men seemingly wanted to ask. 

“I just don’t like American dinner foods- too greasy,” He makes a face at the thought and tries his best to ignore the incredulous stares. 

With that conversion moved on from but not forgotten, the table is filled with idle chatter until the food comes. From then, it’s an unspoken competition between the three American men to get George to eat as much ‘greasy American food’ as possible. 

He only seems to catch on when it’s Karl offering a piece of his ribs. 

“Guys, stop, I won’t be able to finish my food,” The oldest says, declining the barbeque soaked meat that was plopped onto the side of his plate. Every American mouth turns to an evil grin, teeth showing in a way that is more appropriate for sharks smelling blood. 

“Oh but Georgie,” Clay tuts and the nickname unfortunately makes George blush. “You enjoy it right?” 

George seems to go even more red at the realization that yes, he did actually like the food he had been fed. Though he does not go down with a fight. 

“I liked being fed, sure, especially by what seems to be the formings of a pack-” Those words make all the men there sit up a little straighter because, yeah, _George is right_. They all fit well together like a pack should. “But, the food isn’t the part I like.” The rest of his statement brings the makeshift pack back onto the topic at hand. 

“Hmmm-” George banks on the fact that Clay shouldn’t know his tells when he’s lying yet. He loses this mental bet with himself and the universe. “You’re lying!” Clay sounds smug when he says it and reaches for Georges’ ear, pulling on the cartilage lightly. He leans in and whispers in the held appendage. 

“Your ears lit up when you lied when you were on my lap, telling me you didn’t want it any harder.” The flash of his shark smile is heard through his words instead of seen and George lights up like a christmas tree, suddenly getting out of his seat with a loud scratch of the chair legs. 

“I’m going to the bathroom!” The brunette omega exclaims before hastily retreating to the direction that says ‘BATHROOM’. His hurried steps are followed by tea-kettle laughter and another soft scraping of a chair, louder and larger footfalls gaining on him as he makes a break for the bathroom.

The dull clasp of the door shutting barely has time to fully latch before it’s being pulled open again, and the blond is entering into the male restroom behind his retreating omega. 

“George?” His words are tentative and searching, apologetic and scared. He sounds genuinely nervous that he fucked up. 

“In here!” The omega calls from the first stall on the left, though keeps the door locked and the alpha out. He watches as feet shuffle to stand in front of the stall. 

“I didn’t mean to get you worked up back there, or scare you, or do whatever I did- fuck I’m sorry.” The blond's voice only sounded this soft and nervous when he worried about hurting George in their passion. 

“You didn’t do anything really wrong,” Assuring his alpha from inside a stall seems like exactly against the point, so he unlocks the door and steps out to be immediately enveloped in warm arms. 

“Don’t make me think I hurt you, I don’t like it at all.” The alpha murmurs into the top of the smaller man’s head, dark strains vibrating and shining with the warm wet breath of the blond. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, alpha.” The honourific soothes something primal in the lean man. “I just didn’t know how to react. I’m so-” His apology stops when met with a kiss. 

“Don’t apologize,” Clay grins when he pulls away to see the dazed face of his omega. “When are you gonna get used to that? Or are you gonna freeze every time I kiss you?” 

“Fuck off,” George says though doesn’t mean it, and pushes on his tippy toes to meet Clay again. 

“Let’s fuck off back to the table, yeah?” A hand is offered and swiftly taken. 

“Yeah.” The omega responds before letting himself be taken through the bathroom door and back to the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ my twitter as always ](https://twitter.com/skoonk7) i am so sorry this update took a week and is so terrible  
> comments and kudos fuel me into not wanting to abandon this fic so keep em coming  
> also do i make a quick DBH AU where george is an abused droid whos owner augmented him and dream took him in??


	8. backseat of a strangers car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys talk some things out and dream has a bad memory  
> george and clay both confess somethings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why god is this so short i hate it i hate it i HATE IT  
> uh i actually proofread this one so there shouldnt be many grammar mistakes so yeehaw  
> this is 4 pages long and 2k words but it feels so short  
> lots of dialogue btw

Coming upon the wooden table, the pair finds the still seated couple talking within inches of each other, pulled by some invisible force that forbids them from being separated. Definitely true mates.

“Hey, sorry ‘bout that!” Clay releases Georges’ hand to pull out his chair and then sits down himself like it’s second nature. The dishes at the table had been cleared in the short time they were gone and a dessert menu was set gingerly on the table. 

“Everything good?” Nick turns to them, though keeps himself within Karls’ reach. He picks up the dessert menu and browses the options, sighing and then setting the small menu down. The alpha opens his mouth but is beat but the taller alpha at the table. 

“Before we do that, let's talk business,” Clay stops Nicks’ sentence before it starts, instead taking the dessert menu and slyly passing it to George. The shorter alpha doesn’t say anything. 

“Karl, gimme your wrist.” The blond offers his hand, palm up, to allow Karl a spot to drop his wrist. Karl does so gingerly, eyes shining with tears, knowing the coming of events. 

“I, Clay, accept you as a temporary bond into our pack until we can settle in further,” The blonds’ nose rubs onto the scent glands decorating Karls’ skin, nudging his teeth into the hormone-secreter until the skin is broken and a temporary claim is formed. The omega lets out a sharp gasp before his body relaxes and Nick bristles in his seat. Any form of alpha touch to his omega isn’t welcome, even from Clay. 

George stares with rapt attention at the seemingly intimate ceremony happening at a dinner table in some random millennial restaurant. His alpha unlatches his jaw from Karls’ wrist, setting the hand down on the polished wooden table near the dessert menu that George dropped sometime during this process.

Clay wipes his mouth of the excess oil secreted by the now temp-packed omega, licking his lips to taste the rest. It’s an action that should be dirtier than it is, though it just solidifies the new bond between Karl and Clay. 

His breath smells of the oranges and creme like the omega he just bit and his lips are sweet with the slick oils, one-of-a-kind to Karl Jacob’s himself.

The sweet smelling hot breath is redirected to Georges’ ear, words caressing his ears in a soft yet direct way. “I’ll do some special ceremony for your bonding, don’t worry.” The sentence ends with a punctuated kiss to the shell of his ear before the warm body leans back and into the atmosphere of the table. 

“Thank you, I-” The taller of the brunette omega’s chokes on a sob. “I’ve been with Nick for a while, and I know he said you wouldn’t care if I was in the pack as long as I was Nicks’ you’d accept me but- but- that really meant a lot.” His words are rushed and genuine and so big in a tiny place such as their dining table. 

“It’s not a problem really!” Clay shoots Nick a look that screams _meet me outside_ so the shorter alpha excuses himself to take some air. 

“I’m gonna go follow him, you two talk?” His words hang and before he can receive an answer from either omega, he’s hot on Nicks’ trail and out the front doors of the restaurant. 

Once into the cold air of a Florida night, Clay rushes to hug the younger male and soothe his agitated pack mate. 

“Dude, what did you think was gonna happen?” Clay says into the shoulder of the brunet, “you know exactly how this process works, why do you react like you’re twelve and I stole something from you?” 

“Dude, I don’t know, I-” Nick cuts himself with an inhale. “I just hate when people touch him, he means so much to me.” 

Clay presses a kiss to the shorter alphas’ hair and allows him to slick himself with Clays’ scent. There’s a relaxed atmosphere as the two alpha’s remain embraced outside the millennial restaurant with mildly good food, broken only by a large group of super drunk college kids trying to wiggle their way past and into the bar. 

With a relaxing of his arms, they step out of the embrace and Nick no longer looks like he’s searching for a challenge, only endearment and infatuation in his gaze. 

“Dude, don’t look at me like we’re fifteen again!” Clay says with a blush, remembering the virgin-filled desperate touching of their youth, “we both have omega’s in there and we both know that two alpha’s don’t work.”

“A man can dream, a man can dream.” He jokes flirtily, opening the door for Clay and leading them back through the maze of tables to their sitting omega’s. The men smell strongly of each other, though purely platonic in their scent marking, and the omega’s relax knowing they still have a claim on either alpha. 

“So, dessert!” Clay plops unceremoniously into his metal seat, the scraping sound filling the dull silence of their table. “Also, sorry, Karl. I don’t know if you wanted that to be a pack ceremony bonding instead of just after, like, eating mac n’ cheese like it was so- so- when I make you an official member we can have a ceremony?” His words are cautious and meek, so unlike the normally unforgivingly confident alpha. 

“Yeah- I’d like that!” Karl responds, burying his nose into his freshly bitten wrist and sniffing deeply at the new temporary pack bond. 

“Can we get one of those cookies for dessert? With the ice cream? Those things are so American,” George speaks up for the first time in a while, watching as every American grins wildly again. 

“So- you like the American food?” They all say at the same time, evil teeth shining in the light of the hanging edison bulb lamps. 

“Fine! I like the American food…” His words are quiet and said in a pouty voice. The rest of the born-and-bred Americans glance at each other. 

“George, sweetie-” Nick calls him that name instead of Clay, forcing his head to whip up and look at him. “What did you say?”

“Fuck off! You know what I said!” His voice pitches up and his eyes stay staring at each of the stupid Americans in the face. He startles when a hand places itself on his thigh and a thumb rubs into the skinny muscle of the appendage. 

“Okay okay, we can get a cookie skittle,” Clay decides and the playful atmosphere breaks with his words, evolving into something more comfortable. 

*  
**  
*

The rest of their dessert passes easily and Clay foots the bill like a proper alpha, proving himself in even the little things that he can provide.

The group stands outside the wooden doors after leaving the table, Clays’ arms wrapped around George and Karl and Nick in a similar position, each alpha covering their omega from the bitter wind.

They each wait for their Ubers to arrive, the bus system having stopped running this late at night, even in a metropolitan area. Silence fills their space, each pair focussed simply on staying warm in the cold night. Karl faces Nick, face rising slightly above the alphas’ as Karl wins in their battle of height. He whispers something unintelligible to Nick, earning a laugh as the pair continues their back and forth. 

Georges’ head is smothered inside Clays’ warmth, jacket wrapping both men in a pleasant embrace of heat. Words are shushed into the fabric of Clays’ shirt, though he can just barely make them out. 

“You smell good.” _Oh_.

“Thank you, and ditto.” He cranes his neck down to peer at the omega. 

“No, no. You smell like a pack,” George sighs and looks up at Clay, resting his chin on the dip between his pectoral muscles and straining his neck to look up through their seven inches height difference. “I haven’t smelled it since I last saw Wilbur, and that was like two years ago. Guess I’m going to have to see him soon, with you and all.”

Clay rubs his large hands over the surface of his back, smoothing his shirt and soothing the tension in Georges’ form. 

“You need to tell me a bit about him, ya’ know.” A gentle smile is sent and George returns it. 

“It’s so weird, actually. I’ve really only known you for a couple days and it’s like you know everything about me.” He takes a deep breath in, the soft atmosphere of outdoor lighting and the late time a driving factor in his confession, “it’s like you’ve known me all my life. I’ve had no problem getting to know you, despite my earlier reservations about this whole fated thing. I don’t need to explain myself on things and you just seem to- to- understand?”

Clay nods and starts to sway them tenderly. He lets George continue. 

“I can’t say, _I’ve only known this man for a week_ , because it feels like you’ve always kind of been a part of me? It’s baffling that I need to introduce you to Wilbur, cuz’ this feels as natural as breathing and I feel like you should know Wilbie as well as I do. Like, since you somehow just _know_ me so well, you should know him as well too?” George turns his cheek into Clays’ chest and stops looking at him.

Clay keeps his eyes downturned and focussed on the bashful omega. 

“I do, kind of get it. You seem to fit into my arms like I grew around holding you, and you just seem to understand what I’m feeling when I feel it and say it to you? It’s weird to me too, that you don’t know Anna, my younger sister, when it feels like you grew up with us.” His comforting words are an admission to both the older male and himself. 

“You have a sister?” The omegas’ words are surprised and high pitched. 

“That’s what you focus on? But, yes, I have a sister. Her name is Anna, she’s sixteen and an alpha also. My parents bred alpha’s, somehow.” His smile presents itself in the words, like it belongs there as a part of his speech. 

Clay freezes. His words, laced with smiles and happiness, aren’t always going to be like that. His words, the things that can create life or take them violently, are going to fuck it up like last time. His words, dreaded and vile, will take another person who already means so much to him. His words, his words, his words-

“Clay?” Nick has appeared in the space that George backed away from, resting his rough hand on the taller alphas’ neck. When had George moved away? 

Karl and George stand in the back, huddling close together to conserve warmth in the windy night. 

“Yeah, sorry, what’s up?” His attempts to play it off are ignored and a nervous smile appears on his face. “I’m fine, what’s up? Are the Ubers here?” 

“Is it her again?” Nicks’ words startle Clay, forcing the muscles in his body to tense like he’d been electrocuted. 

“Yeah, just a memory, I’m good.” Reluctant arms leave their embrace and return to Karl, forcing George back into his personal heater. 

“Clay-” He’s cut off. 

“I’ll- I’ll,” The blond sighs and a frown paints his face. “I’ll tell you when we get home, okay?” 

The mention of home, a shared home, nearly breaks George from his concerned thoughts. Nearly. 

“I’m going to keep you to that.” Curt British words leave the pair to wait in silence for their Ubers. 

Ten minutes pass on the edge of a comforting quiet when a black Nisan pulls up, forcing Karl and Nick to depart. 

“It was nice to meet you, Karl.” Clay reaches for Karls’ wrist and kisses the now healing gland, rubbing the oils on his lips once more. With a flick of his tongue the oil is gone and Karl steps back with a happy smile. 

“Be good, buddy. Call me later, so I know you’re okay.” Nick whispers into the fabric of Clays’ shoulder when they embrace. 

“I will, promise.” A kiss is pressed onto Nicks’ hairline again and they part with one last rubbing of scent glands. 

Clay returns to George to watch the pair board their Uber and drive off into the Florida night. They’re left there to wait for their own. 

“You can just stay at my apartment.” The alpha both offers and states. 

“Works for me.” A car pulls up. 

They ride in their Uber in silence, hands clasped in the backseat of a strangers car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ my twitter as always ](https://twitter.com/skoonk7) come yell at me or whatever for slowing down on updates i feel horrible too  
> also i felt like i needed to explain how the boys get to know each other so well despite only knowing each other for a handful of days so i did  
> so sorry if its bad  
> as always comments and kudos keep me going


	9. fairy lights and confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there is a HEAVY HEAVY trigger warning for this chapter. 
> 
> trigger warning for suicidal references, abortion, sexual assault, abusive relationships. its all mentioned and nothing descriptive but i owe it to you to give you a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is 2.5k chapter of trauma and love. the chapter starts without the trauma stuff with a STARTS HERE so feel free to skip to it. 
> 
> seriously, its heavy. if you need help, please call any of these numbers.
> 
> National American Suicide Hotline: 800-273-8255  
> National American Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673
> 
> These numbers are open 24 hours a day. If you need help, please call.

One terse Uber ride later brings them outside Clays’ apartment and both of them drawing a blank. The alpha pulls his keys from pocket and unlocks the door with a resounding _chck_ of the bolt turning. Upon seeing an empty house, he pulls out his phone to shoot Nick a text, asking if he’s at Karls’. He receives a prompt yes. 

“Are.. you gonna let me in?” George asks from behind Clay, who had been standing in the doorway texting Nick, forgetting about his guest. 

“Oh, fuck!” He stumbles out of the way and through the living room, holding the door open for George. “Sorry, I was asking where Nick was- we live together.” 

“I know, Clay, I was here earlier.” Fuck, he had forgotten. 

“Yeah, yeah I knew you knew that,” He rubs his hand on his neck and laughs, turning to flip on the lights and speed-walk away through his small abode. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Georges’ voice sounds from behind him and his quest to get away is stopped. 

“Nothin’ j-just lookin’ for Patches!” His normally soothing voice pitches up with his lie. A hand rests itself softly on his back, startling the tall man with a flinch. 

“Clay, talk to me? Please?” Flimsy arms wrap around his torso from behind, soft cheek pushing into the fabric of the alphas’ jacket. Clay hangs his head and places his hands on top of the omegas’ locked around his front. 

“It was from dinner tonight,” He starts, staring down at the ground and shrinking his body impossibly smaller in the older males embrace. “I dated a beta, a few years back. A memory of her just came up, that’s all.” 

George lets the words hang in the air, waiting for the alpha to continue. They sit in silence for a couple minutes while the alpha breathes, composing the words like an out-of-time symphony. 

“We dated for a while. I thought I was gonna mate her, honestly. It was a two year relationship and I loved her- really, I did.” Nicks’ stale cherry and sandalwood scent permeates the silent air, quickly being covered by distressed waves and loving apples, “She told me at the end of the relationship that it was all fake. That- that she dated me as a joke but didn’t know how to end it. I asked her why, why she did this, wanna know what she said?”

George nods against his back. 

An angry huff is followed by, “She liked hearing my sweet words. She liked knowing I was- was in love with her and that she was just playing around.” The lean body shakes within Georges’ grasp, fists clenching and unclenching, “I yelled at her, wondering how sweet my words were then. I yelled and yelled at the girl I loved and I watched her cry, and saw as everything we were crumble and - and-”

“You don’t have to continue telling me the backstory, Clay. Please just tell me what I can do to fix it?” His soft pale lips murmur into the tank top, words vibrating against the material. 

“I don’t know, honestly. It was my fault she didn’t love me, my fault it crumbled, my fault that I couldn’t make her like me, my fault my words weren’t sweet enough-” The blond's voice speeds up, words frantic and desperately clawing their way out of his throat. A sob wracks the younger man's body, hands not moving from their place on Georges’ to wipe his eyes. 

George turns them around and leads them to the place that smells strongest of den, where the cherry sandalwood and beachy waves intertwine in a delicate and complicated dance. The older male places the blond on the shared pack bed, leaving only to turn off the lights and flip on the string lights Nick called cringy but actually enjoyed. 

He returns to the alpha’s side, legs dangling off the side of the California king bed and thighs resting next to Clays’, knees touching in solidarity. The taller man slumps his head to the right and onto Georges’ boney shoulder, burying his nose into the scent gland that rests on his neck, currently releasing a concoction of comforting oils. 

The pair sits in silence for a while, occasionally broken only by small sniffs. With Clay still resting on the older males shoulder, he can feel when George is about to speak, vibrations of his skin rumbling through Clays’ face. 

“I’m going to tell you this, and I don’t want you to look at me while I do,” His words start soft and easy, tone misleading the meaning of the sentence. “When I first presented, my parents didn’t talk to me. They wanted another boisterous beautiful alpha like Wilbur, and they got a weak little omega who never goes outside.”

A deep breath, “Wilbur took care of me for days, my parents didn’t even want to feed me. I can’t blame them, I didn’t want to feed me either. Wilbie fed me, made sure I showered, saw the sun sometimes, drank enough water. I-I barely wanted to move. Everything I was had come crashing down and I didn’t even want to be alive.” 

Clay knows where this is going, though remains still in the crook of Georges’ neck. “I attempted, then. One stomach pump later and I was awake with Wilbur crying near my hospital bed and my parents glaring at me through the window. Worrying about bills and the way this looks on the family, of course. I wish it worked then, I would be spared the pain of disappointing my parents more. Can’t even do one thing right, funny.” He breathes out a chuckle, air tickling the top of Clays’ head. 

“They admitted me, they had to.” George continues like he can’t stop, “I was there for three weeks and- and I-” Tears slip gently down his cheeks, dropping onto the blond hairline. 

“Let’s say, something happened. I left there pregnant and wanting to end it even more. It’s my brother who made sure that didn’t happen, and if it wasn’t for him I’d be dead right now.”

Clay finally chimes in, “I’ll have to thank him some extra then.” 

“I guess you will,” The brunette chuckles and buries his nose into the blond’s scalp, broken from his traumatic stupor with Clays’ words. The same words he seems to hate. “He took me to my doctor’s appointment to- to get rid of it. Hid my body with his and protected me when people threw rocks-”

“People threw rocks?” The alpha startles up, jostling them both. For the first time, he really looks into Georges’ eyes, seeing passed the guards and into his soul as it’s laid bare. The shorter males lids are puffy and the heterochromatic gaze is blurred with tears. 

“Yeah, people threw rocks. He’s got a nasty scar from one hitting his head, actually.” George seems to chuckle at the memory, gearing up to tell the story. “Apparently it happens so often that the clinic offers free stitches and medical care for it, so at least he got care right away.”

The older man turns his body to face Clay now, rather than touching shoulders and craning necks. He crosses his legs in the bed and angles himself to face the alpha, as if he decided that shying away from it won’t do any good. 

Clay follows suit, rearranging his lanky limbs to face George, crossing his legs as well and scooting closer until their knees touch. 

“Our parents' faces when they saw the stitches, my god, I thought they were going to kill themselves. Which, honestly, would have been ironic at the time.” He chuckles and breaks the tense atmosphere, looking Clay in the eyes once more when the story is finished. 

“I’m glad the attempt didn’t work and you’re here with me now. I’m sorry that happened and you had to make that decision.” Green gazes into heterochromatic softly, meeting with tender passion and true sympathy. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I wasn’t untouched when we fucked,” A small smile plays onto the older males face, face scrunching into anticipated laughter. 

“What the hell gave you that idea?” Clay takes the bait with an exasperated voice, body reeling back in disbelief. 

“Oh nothing, just that I know you wanted me to be ruined for everyone else for my first.” He giggles, the blush on his face betraying his intent of teasing. 

“Oh come on,” The dense alpha starts to defend himself. “One, I don’t care about stuff like that, as long as it’s you. Two, that doesn’t count because there wasn’t any consent. You see?” 

Clay’s serious response halts George in his teasing. 

“You really mean that?” Any previous sign of joking leaves his voice. 

“Of course, I’m no stranger to that experience, trust me. Shit like that happens to anyone, you know.” A far off look replaces Clays’ gaze, eyes shining over with something George can’t place.

“Before you ask, yes, it was her. Alcohol, drugs. The works.” His words are curt and leave nothing for the brunette to imagine. 

“I won’t ask you to tell me, obviously. What’s done is done and we can leave it at that.” Georges’ words are frank and potentially conversation ending, though Clay isn’t given the chance to end it when Patche’s pushes open the door. 

Her gentle meows ring through the softly lit room, furry body stretching out as she breaches the atmosphere without care. The fuzzy animal saunters over and onto the bed, hoping gracefully into Georges’ lap like he was born to be there. With a tackless plop, she’s in his lap and there to stay. 

START HERE

“Guess that settles it.” The blond smiles down at the literal cat in his cat-like males lap, eyes shifting to something tender at the display.  
“Clay, you can keep talking if you want. I’m okay with that,” The omegas’ words are muffled from his face being directed towards the feline, voice projecting down and being absorbed into the little animal. “I’m here to help.”

A smirk finds itself atop pink lips, teeth shining yellow in the dull lighting, sharp canines open with the smile. “Really? Anything?”

George makes the mistake of keeping his gaze down at the cat, “Yeah, obviously.”

Clay surges forward, using his left hand to rest on and his right to grip Georges’ face and kiss him breathless. Their lips merge together with an easy won battle, dominance being handed freely to the insecure alpha. 

George moves Patche’s from her seat, breaking the kiss with a soft ‘sorry’ before diving back, pulling the younger man down as he leans back to lay flat. Clay follows and rests his large body gently atop Georges’ weaker one, resting most of his weight on his elbows to keep the brunette from getting crushed. 

Their kiss starts languid, soft lips biting and sucking in a tender caress, building to something more passionate. The shift comes when Clay slots his tongue between the older males lips, licking the inside of his mouth possessively, like if he can claim every inch of his body George will stay his. 

Said George allows himself to be manhandled, following obediently the push and pull of their tongues, keeping the younger man resting on his chest. A dance of scents fills the air, vanilla and apples blending with the combined cherry sandalwood and fresh palm like it was meant to be there. Every deep breath solidifies the idea that the universe hand picked them to create a scent like no other, amazing and beautiful in its complexity, though basking in its simple completion. 

With a huff, Clay moves up farther on the bed to cage the older mans body, kiss growing into something fueled by fire rather than kept docile by water. His mouth trails down the pale omegan neck, peppering hickies along his path. The tongue, capable of words so sweetly sour, sucks on the oil coming from the gland resting on his neck. 

Large hands slip up the soft material of Georges’ clothing, drawing patterns against the bare skin. When George flinches, Clay draws back like he’s been burned. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I forgot to ask, fuck, I’ll call you an Uber if I’ve overstepped my-” His worried ramble stops when lips meet his, shushing their quiet shush. 

“It just tickled, alpha. I’m all good.” Clay short circuits with that word, _alpha_ , and he sinks back into the embrace to kiss him again. Almost no time passes before they’re back to the previous energy, kissing with reckless abandon. 

George pushes up into calloused hands this time, reassuring nonverbally that he wants the touch. No, needs the touch. 

The younger man pushes the shirt up, leading his kisses through the expanses of pale unmarked skin. His lips suck dark spots on his chest, tonguing around sensitive peaked nipples, earning a covered moan from the brunette. Clay looks up to see George holding a fist to his mouth. 

“Hey, don’t,” One of his calloused hands leaves the frail body to draw away the thing blocking Georges’ noises. “These walls are soundproof, me and Nick had to get through ruts somehow.”

The brunette looks down at the alpha resting his tan chin on his bare and now marked chest. 

“You guys, you what?” A scandalised smile breaks on his pale face. 

“Yeah, so what? Packed people fuck through ruts and heats all the time,” His red face reveals his bashfulness, exposing the embarrassment poking through underneath. 

“No shame, honestly. Didn’t think you guys would be a good pair with how much you two butt heads.” His words are laced with humour. 

“Oh fuck off, I will have you know that he is a begging mess. For as much of an alpha he tries to be, he squirms so good on cock you’d think he was an omega.” Clay brags about his apparently bottom packmate to his fated mate, though said fated mate seems to enjoy it. 

“I’ll take your word for it, though I’m pretty sure Karl has him covered on the cock part.” Their frantic kissing has stopped and diverged into conversation. Clay remains looking up at his omega from the pale chest, meeting heterochromatic eyes halfway. 

“Are you saying Karl tops?” The omega puts on a pretend scandalous voice, like an omegan estates woman from the 1800’s. 

“Like you don’t know the answer.” 

Their conversation continues late into the night, until both fall asleep with their bodies curled into each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the heaviness [ my twitter come yell at me or something ](https://twitter.com/skoonk7)  
> comments and kudos fuel me as always please give me writes fuel  
> sorry for cock blocking yall as well


	10. living breathing pillows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys have some pack bonding, and theres a surpise call from wilbur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was requested to add more dreamnap to this fic and i always deliver  
> sorry if the pacing is weird for this one, ive been in a funk lately  
> hopefully its okay  
> this is 5 pages and 2.5k words

George startles awake, the warmth at his side replaced by a cherry and sandalwood smelling alpha, snuggled deep into his neck. Behind him, an orange and creme omega with his arm wrapped around his waist, curled protectively around the smallest of the pack. 

The omegas’ nose is assaulted with familial-feeling scents, surrounded by gentle air and even gentler arms. His eyes draw towards the figure sitting on a beanbag next to the bed, chilling on his phone with a cat draped over his lap. The blond smiles upon seeing George awake, carefully picking Patches up and dropping her on his warm spot as he rises from the chair. Well, struggles to free himself from the embrace of the beans, is more accurate. 

Soon, as his struggle ends and Patches is placed on the bag, he tiptoes over to the bed holding the forming pack. His tan hands wave a silent ‘hello’, phone tucked away into his pocket in order to properly observe the scene before him. 

“Good morning, Georgie,” He whispers, eyes alight with fondness and laughter. “Quite a predicament you’re in.” 

The male in question shoots him a fake-glare, the intensity broken by the little smile playing on his face. Karl snuggles into his neck from behind, his grip tightening and sliding George back into the larger man's embrace easily. The movement draws Nick in as well, the alpha following his source of warmth, keeping his face pressed into the omegas’ collarbones. 

“I’ll answer your question before you ask it,” Clay interrupts before George can say a word, stopped with his mouth open. He closes it at Clays’ words. “They got here at around two in the morning, according to the ring doorbell.”

“My guess?” He continues, “Karl needed to be near me because of the temporary bond, and by proxy, needed to be near you. You’re head omega now, you know.” 

George cranes his neck to observe the omega behind him, hair tussled with the signs of solid sleep, mouth slightly agape and lips cracking. He then turns his gaze to the alpha in front of him, nose buried deep into the base of his scent glands, inhaling the thing that makes him uniquely him with every breath. The hair atop the alphas’ head tickles the sandwiched omega, soft strands brushing his skin like they belong there. 

“I was in the pile too, behind Nick, before I woke up,” The blond chuckles, hand going to his pocket to pull out his phone. “Don’t worry, I got lots of pictures of you all together, and some with me in there as well.”

The brunette lacks the capacity to care about his potentially embarrassing photos, brain filled instead with comfort and high on pack-related endorphins. When he remains silent, Clay speaks up again. 

“I’m gonna go make some breakfast, try to wiggle your way out and join me?” The offer penetrates the haze of happiness that settled on Georges’ mind. He nods in answer, watching as Clay leaves the warmly lit room. The fairy lights splay on the bodies in the bed, early morning sunlight landing on the wall behind them. 

It takes the smell of toast to convince the omega to leave, the reassuring embrace of both men sapping the energy from his bones. He maneuvers out of the hold, awkwardly bending his lanky limbs to avoid jostling his pack. 

When he’s confident that they’ve stayed sleeping, he silently walks out of the denning room and back into the kitchen, following the smell and cloudy remembrance of the layout. The apartment is moderately sized for Florida, with furnishing worn but nice quality. A realization lands on the omega; what does Clay do for a living?

He spots said alpha in the kitchen, apron tied behind his back, wearing nothing but sweatpants and the dark yellow bakers accessory. Stalking behind the alpha, he wraps his arms around the younger male, rubbing his face on the exposed back. 

“Is it green?” The omega murmurs, keeping his face pressed onto the warm expanse of skin. He feels the chuckle beneath his cheek rather than hears it. 

“Yes, it is lime green. What’s it look like?” Clays’ innocent curiosity doesn’t piss George off like the question ‘what does this look like’ usually does. The man remains cooking breakfast while waiting for an answer. 

“Kind of yellowish, though different from actual yellow. It’s darker.” He releases Clay from his embrace, instead going to hop on the countertops and face the man. The cold countertop seeps through the protective warmth of his pants, though he ignores it. Even on the counter, George still can’t quite look him directly in the eye in height. 

“Hmm, maybe I’ll need to start wearing colours you can see.” The sizzle of flipping bacon ends the sentence for him. 

“Before you ask, your eyes are gold to me.” Clays’ head springs up at that, said gold eyes wide with surprise. A coffee stained grin plasters itself onto the freckled face.

“How did you-” George cuts him off. 

“Everyone asks, especially people with green eyes.” He sighs, hands gripping the edge of the counter and face downturned into his chest with a chuckle. 

The blond makes a displeased noise, continuing to watch the bacon and flip when needed. George begins an apology, though halts when he hears the den door open. He tucks the thought into a ‘for later’ cabinet in his brain, instead changing his gaze to the pair shuffling from the room. 

Nick rubs his eyes as his slippered feet shuffle along the ground, eyes squinting at the sudden difference in light. Karl does something similar behind him, though covering his mouth to hide a yawn with one hand, dragging his fingers through tangled hair with the other. They migrate towards the kitchen bar, plopping unceremoniously into the bar-stool chairs. 

“Hi, sleep well?” Clay asks without turning from his cooking, shooting a look to George to ask as well. 

“Yeah, sleep good?” His British accent stresses the words in different places, causing all three men there to smile. 

“We had a nice pillow, so yes.” Karl smiles fondly at George, eyes gleaming with something too big for George to handle so early. Nick just nods in agreement, sitting weirdly on his chair. Oh, that’s why they smell so entangled. 

Karl rests a hand on Nicks’ thigh, rubbing his thumb into the muscled fat of his leg. Their precious atmosphere breaks when a phone rings somewhere in the house, all the men look at each other to gauge whose phone it is. 

George hops off the counter, feeling all three male gazes following him as he returns to the denning room to answer his phone. When he arrives upon the offending object, he picks up immediately when he sees Wilburs’ name. 

“Bie!” His excited shout is probably heard by the other men, though he pushes that idea back to focus on his brother.

“Gogie!” The alpha answers his excited shout with his own. “So, hey.” The mood changes as Wilburs’ tone drops into something serious. 

“What’s up?” The omega covers his nervousness with casual conversation. 

“How would you feel if-” Oh no, what could this possibly be? “I told you I was at the airport right now, about to board a plane for Florida?” _What?_

“You’re what?” His mind short circuits at that dropped bomb of information. 

“I’m at Heathrow right now, with a plane that I’m boarding in about thirty minutes-” George cuts him off there. 

“Okay what? You’re flying into Florida? How- why- hold on,” Removing the phone from his ear, he uses his left hand to cover his mouth. He gets to see his brother soon? “Sorry, I’m back. How do you even know where to fly in? Why now?” 

“All will be revealed in time, young one.” The low chuckle barely registers on the phone, sounds covered by the now present bustle of a busy airport. 

“Oh shut up, I mean- where are you staying? How long will you be here?” George unknowingly continues to poke holes into this plan, displaying his nervousness. 

“I’ve got a hotel and I’ll be there about a week. Trust me, Gog, it’ll be okay. I have to go now, they’re taking me through some passport related stuff. I love you, I’ll see you soon!” And before George can even say bye, the call ends and he’s left to stand alone in the room. 

It takes about three minutes of just standing before he leaves to join the men and reveal the news. Once joined, he hops back up on the counter, ignoring their inquisitive looks. The male spends a second to take a deep breath and figure out his words. 

“So, my brother is coming. Like, right now. He’s boarding his plane and flying into Florida.” Karl and Nick look at him wide eyed, Clay trying his best to copy the looks but failing. He is a terrible liar.

“Did you get in contact with my brother?” George asks, voice incredulous. Does he kiss his alpha now or later?

“Yeah, I just wanted to surprise you. I found his socials through yours, messaged him, the rest is happening now.” His stupid bashful little smile is wipped off his face when George leaps up to kiss him, wrapping his arms around the tan neck and standing on his tippy toes to reach. 

The group continues breakfast after that, talking in the kitchen and enjoying each other's presence. Each male shares an equal amount of contact throughout the pack, though only the alpha’s sneakily feel up their omega’s. 

George migrates from Clays’ arms to avoid getting splashed with dish water when breakfast cleanup begins, instead falling into Karls’ arms on the couch. He snuggles up on his chest, planting his face in the base of his neck to inhale oranges and cream with every breath. 

“Hi!” The taller omega adjusts to make room for the physical weight that dropped itself on his chest. His lean arms wrap around George, pulling him closer while continuing to play the game on the PS4. The shorter male doesn’t need to turn around to know what game he’s playing, instead recognizing the voice actors and music. 

“Detroit: Become Human? What route?” His words vibrate against Karls’ collarbone, forcing a poorly-covered shiver through his body. The arms wrapped around his torso meet on the other side to hold a controller while still holding George. 

“Pacifist route, obviously. I love Connor and I want him to deviate, plus I did the aggressive ending a week ago.” The air that leaves his mouth with each syllable brushes Georges’ hair, pushing strands and tickling the shorter brunette. Both men ignore the scene happening in the kitchen. 

Nicks’ back is soaked with dish water from slotting himself between Clay and the sink he was doing the dishes at. The shorter alpha refuses to care, lips melding against Clays’ in a familiar movement. Large tan hands clutch at the chubby hips, massaging the fat with his fingers and forcing the younger brunet to relax. 

“New pack emotions getting to you, Nickie?” The blond breaks the kiss with that sentence, coffee-stained teeth grinning evilly. 

“Oh shut up, our omega’s are in there basically cuddle fucking-” Both alpha’s ignore the ‘ _No we are not!_ ’ call from the living room. “And we used to do this all the time, back in high school. Cmon, Clay, it’s not that weird, is it?” Nick finishes his statement through gritted teeth, trying not the buck into the strong grip on his love handles. 

“It’s not, you’re right. Maybe later, after I’ve talked to George and you’ve talked to Karl about it. Don’t wanna assume, right?” The head alpha asks, accentuating each word with a kiss on the pouting lips. 

“Fine, fine. Do your dishes now, I’m gonna go join the omega sandwich.” He leaves with one last kiss, wiggling from the spot between the sink and the warm body. With a plop, he drops his wet shirt onto the ground, leaving him topless and only in basketball shorts. His gait stutters with the evidence of Georges’ and Clays’ argument the previous night and the proof they were both right. 

The blond watches the man struggle to walk straight before making sure he fits into the ‘omega sandwich’ on the large couch. Upon seeing his seamless integration into the pile, Clay starts again on the dishes, washing and drying with a fond smile on his face.

When the last dish is set in place, Clay hangs up his apron and goes to join the cuddle pile, only to see George and Nick asleep and Karl nearly asleep as well. The game screen displays the white menu of Detroit: Become Human, the controller nearly slipping out of Karls’ hand as his tired grip begins to fail. 

Clay turns the TV all the way down before taking the controller from the Virginian omega, checking his progress through the scene and deciding that his last save point is acceptable. A few buttons beep to signal the PS4 and TV are off, followed by a loss of fans whirring in the normally loud gaming console. 

The alpha sets the controller to charge, then finally turns to the pile of his people on the couch. He digs his phone from his pajamas, snapping a few hundred pictures of the sleeping pack. Only when the device complains that the storage is nearly filled does he leave to enter his office and pass the time. 

Upon entering the room, he clicks on the LED lights around the ceiling, setting the colour to blue instead of his normal green, just in case George wakes up to visit him. He crosses the rugged floor and to his computer chair, the plastic sheet beneath the wheels causing the chair to roll when he sits. 

The computer starts up easily, fans whirring to life and the green light inside the set up illuminating the parts through the clear glass. Each monitor blinks to life, password inputted with ease, fingers tapping on silent keys. 

On the left monitor is the code program, on the right monitor is the requirements for his client. He starts to type out lines of code, creating each new function with professional skill. 

The hours slip like sand through his fingers, his focus broken only by the alarm on his phone going off. Nearly seven hours had passed since this morning, alerting him to the probable consciousness of his pack. He saves his progress and shuts his computer back down, stretching his legs when he stands, each vertebrae in his back popping with the effort. 

The blond shuts the lights off as he leaves, returning back into the real world. One glance at the couch confirms his suspicions, empty furniture proving that they were awake and hadn’t bothered him. Green eyes throw a cursory glance around to find none of them there, missing from the living room and kitchen. 

He crosses the small hall and peaks into the den, finding all three of the men lounging around the large room. Somehow they didn’t notice his peaking, allowing him the freedom to pick up Wilbur at the airport and bring him back without the entire pack going. 

Throwing on a hoodie laying around the living room, he slips on his shoes and sneaks out the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, [ my twitter ](https://twitter.com/skoonk7) come yell at me pls i love when ppl interact with me  
> comments and kudos are love and fuel me to keep going


	11. speeding tickets and speeding love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur arrives finally and meets all the boys!   
> happy chapter i promise, not that sad shit again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a day early for sapnap celebration day, sapnap the creator of catboys, the sexiest man alive  
> happy 20th birthday   
> hope yall like it tell me to delete it if its bad  
> i will

Texts flood in while he’s driving to the airport, worried messages from packmates asking where he is, if he’s okay, if he can buy milk while he’s out. Trust Nick to not worry. He makes a new group chat while stopped at a light, sending them all a text that, yes, he is fine and just picking up Wilbur. 

With that news, George sends a bunch of smiley faces in the chat coupled with thumbs up from the other pair. The blond can’t help smiling at his phone, his fated mate and pack mates bringing a rush of serotonin to his head. Clay startles from his stupor as cars honk behind him, indicating the state of the light. 

Green is for go. 

Stepping on the gas, he starts off again for the airport. Planes land closer with each mile he travels into the waystation, driving past the first three gates to find a parking spot at the fourth station. He ignores the astronomical parking prices, instead parking close to the entrance, leaving his old car there.

The glass doors of the airport slide open with a sound, the bearings needing oil from repetitive use. On his phone is the location for his landing, shoes carrying him through the airport with practiced ease. His hoodie suddenly feels unbearably itchy, the fabric tearing into his skin like needles. 

A small ding alerts the alpha that his intended plane has landed, and the passengers will be departing shortly. His phone buzzes within his hand, breaking his staring contest with the ground. A text from Wilbur, affectionately named ‘Georges brother do not fuck this up’ in his phone. 

It reads, “I’m here! Going thru TSA and passport stuff right now, should be out soon!” 

The waistband of Clays’ pants seems to tighten and gain mass, the light elastic feeling like an enormous weight. Even if he wanted to move, his shoes seem to be rooted in place, stuck to the floor. The blond feels immobilized in the shitty blue plastic seat. 

Another text breaks him from his panic, again from Wilbur. 

This time, it says, “Coming thru the gate now, green hoodie?”

Clay looks up and meets eyes staring directly at him and a body moving closer. The man in question pushes his fluffy brown hair back as he approaches, slipping his phone into his pocket with one fluid motion. 

The blond summons the strength to stand, slipping his phone into the hoodie pocket as well and whipping his sweaty hands in there in the process. As Wilbur steps close, Clay offers his hand. The taller alpha looks at it before taking the blond into a strong hug, relaxing subconsciously into the bigger embrace. He hears a sniff and takes the opportunity to do it himself. 

“You smell like George.” Wilbur says while releasing him, using his long arms to push the shorter body back by his shoulders and look at him up and down. 

“You smell like coffee and warm laundry.” Despite only being two inches shorter than Wilbur, the blond feels as though he strains his neck to meet the brown eyes. 

They finally back away from each other, breaking contact that had been surprisingly comforting. The taller alpha grabs the handle of his suitcase, motioning for Clay to lead them to the car. Both men slip into an easy gait, long legs thankfully keeping pace together. 

Wilbur starts with questions. “Where do you work?” 

“Oh, I design custom code for professional use. Basically, rent-a-coder. I help with what’s needed on a project, whether it’s an app, or a game, or whatever.” The blond moves his hands while he talks, drawing the attention of Wilburs’ eyes. 

“Oh nice, George is a coder too.” Clay whips his head to look at the alpha, eyes wide. How much did Clay actually know about George? Other than emotional trauma? 

“I- I actually didn’t know that,” The blond chuckles, using his previously expressive hands to rub the back of his neck. He stares wide eyed at the ground, embarrassed at his lack of information about the man he wants to mate. 

“I could tell,” The smug words are somehow said non-smugly, courtesy of Wilburs’ genuine niceness. “He’s been telling me that you guys haven’t talked much about the little things yet, though give it sometime. You guys haven’t actually known each other long, so it’s surprising that you guys work like you. Like there’s no need to talk at all, you know- understand.” 

Clay lifts his gaze from the floor, instead turning to look at the taller male. “That actually means a lot, thank you.” 

Wilbur just laughs it off with a wave of his hand, drawing them back into silence as they approach the parking lot. 

Just after breaching the glass doors, Wilbur speaks again. “Do you have any siblings?”

“A sister, named Anna. She’s an alpha.” Clays’ voice drips with pride when speaking about his little sister, genuine affection lacing through his words as they draw near the vehicle. The car beeps as the blond unlocks it, opening up the back seat, allowing Wilbur to store his suitcase. 

Both men walk to the same side of the car before Wilbur stops and laughs, turning his large body to walk to the other side. It takes a few seconds for it to click in the blonds brain, then he’s laughing as well. 

“God, I forgot about the road thing!” Clay wheezes, clutching his stomach as the men begin to laugh harder. They feed off of each other's laughter, stuck in a loop as they cackle. The teapot wheezes elicit guffaws from the british male, forcing them to laugh harder. 

It’s only when Clay clutches his stomach and starts to gag laughing do they finally settle down and step into the waiting car, turning it on to warm up. The blond continues to gag for a couple minutes as they sit in the car and wait for any lingering chuckles to pass. Clay hands Wilbur the AUX cord while they wait, indicating with his hands to put music on as the gags and hiccups pass through Clays’ body. 

Wilbur takes the offer, plugging his phone into the stereo and searching through his phone for a song. The first notes of Fuck Love by XXXTENTACION and Trippie Redd filter through the speakers, the welcome distraction of music stopping the aftershocks of laughing so hard. 

“I didn’t know you had taste,” Clay says while clicking his seatbelt in, stepping on the brake to shift into reverse and pull them out of there. He puts a tan hand on the back of Wilburs’ headrest, turning his whole body to look behind. The hand stays there until they’ve left the spot, leaving the headrest to put the car in drive. 

The blond drives them down the ramp and car elevator-like circular tunnel, exiting back onto the main road. The airport isn’t too far from his apartment, where the people he looks forward to most lay, waiting. 

The song ends rather abruptly, leading into The Book of You & I by Alec Benjamin. Clay turns his head from the road for a second to look at Wilbur with wide eyes before asking, “Dude, are you okay?” 

Wilbur laughs his british-sounding guffaw, “Yeah, dude. Sad songs hit different.” 

“Next question,” Clay says while turning his head to look both ways, turning right when he deems it clear. “How do you know my music taste?” 

Wilbur looks at Clay like he’s going to kill them with his driving, the right turn throwing him off. “Fuck, I hate American driving,” His large hand clutches the bar attached to the ceiling, knuckles turning unhealthily white. “You look like the guy who likes this music.”

The shorter alpha presses on the gas when the street opens, car speeding to the beat of the song. He mouths along the words while switching lanes, confident hands keeping expert control of the car. 

“Do you drive like this often?” Wilbur asks, not taking his eyes off the road or letting go of the handle. The music covers the sound of the wind outside the car, the soft sounding words only a whisper above the wind. 

Clay turns onto the freeway, waiting until they’ve passed the onramp to drop his foot on the gas. “Yeah, I was given a speeding ticket for going one-hundred and forty miles per hour, which I guess you don’t know how fast that is.” 

The little car whips through the traffic, drifting smoothly in and out of lanes like fish swimming in the sea. Wilbur puts another song up before opening Google to check how fast that is in kilometres. 

The coffee alpha nearly breaks his neck with the force at which he looks at the blond. 

“Two-hundred and twenty-five kilometres per hour?” His voice pitches up embarrassingly high, baffled by the blond. Said blond just laughs it off, switching lanes again. 

“I paid for the whole speedometer, I’m gonna use the whole speedometer.” He shrugs his shoulders like he didn’t confess to doing seventy over the criminal speed limit. Boys Will Be Bugs by Cavetown plays next, filling their silence. 

Wilbur lets that information sit in his mind while they speed back, making it to Clays’ apartment in record time. The freckled blond parks them in his residence allotted spot, turning off his car and cutting the music. 

The freckles on his face stretch into an awkward white people smile, indicating their arrival. The taller alpha takes the hint when Clay exits the car, opening the door himself to crawl from the death trap. The blond takes Wilburs’ suitcase for him, shutting the back door and locking the car when all doors are shut. 

He leads them back to the apartment holding his pack, stopping in front of his apartment door to look at Wilbur. The soft alpha gives him a nod, both to indicate his readiness and also to psych himself up. 

Clay unlocks the door, pushing it open to reveal all three men lounging on the couch. George bolts up as the door opens, smothering Wilbur in a hug before he can even breach the threshold of the apartment. 

The brunette omegas’ boney arms find miraculous strength to crush his brother, hands locking behind his back in a vice grip. Strong arms reciprocate his hug, wrapping around his upper torso and smooshing the shorter boy into his chest. 

“Bie!” The shout is muffled by the cold weather gear Wilbur wears, nose loudly scenting his brother without shame. 

“Hi, Gog!” The alpha says his name with soft reverence, burying his nose in the dark brown hair and breathing deep as well. 

They only break when Nick clears his throat, earning a punch from Karl and a sharp look from Clay. He rubs his arm and looks at Clay for defense, only to find a glare. 

“Oh, yeah.” George backs away while smoothing down his shirt, “Guys, this is my brother, Wilbur.” 

Wilbur waves hello, finally stepping into the apartment and allowing Clay to close the door. George leads his brother to an open seat, taking his suitcase from him and setting it by the door. The game on the screen is paused, the room filled with the menu music as they wait for everyone to settle. 

Clay takes his cue to speak when Wilbur has sat down and adjusted a little, George sitting only a seat over on the adjacent couch. The blond stands behind the seat nearest to the door where Karl sits. The alpha puts his tan hands on the tall omegas’ shoulders, leaning his weight on the male slightly. 

“This is Karl,” The mentioned male waves at Wilbur. “He’s Nicks’ omega.” 

Wilbur nods, waving back and throwing Karl a quiet hello. 

Clay walks over behind the couch facing the television, standing behind Nick. 

“This is Nick,” The blond ignores his enthusiastic hello. “He’s the second alpha in command.” The mentioned man blushes and looks up at his head alpha, infatuation gleaming in his eyes. 

The blond walks around to the front of the couch to sandwich himself between Nick and George. “Obviously, I’m Clay, head alpha.” The proud smile on his face beams brighter as both men lean into him subconsciously. 

Wilbur points at each male and recites their names under his breath, looking satisfied once he remembers them correctly. 

“I’m Wilbur, George’s older brother.” His british accent seems to enamour the men as much as Georges’ did. Nick and Karl scent the air, both men seeming to accept the scent and breathe it in comfortably. 

All the men sit in an awkward silence after introductions, unsure of what to do or say next. 

Clay bravely breaks the silence by clearing his throat and turning to Wilbur. “Are you hungry?” He asks, motioning to his kitchen. 

“Actually, I might go back to my hotel. The UK is five hours ahead of here and even there I work the night shift, so I haven’t slept in a while.” His face spells regret, guilt of leaving as soon as he got there clear on his face. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll drive you back. You’re here all week, we don’t need to do everything tonight.” Clay soothes his worries on instinct, offering his help to push any doubt from the taller alpha. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He stands by putting his hands on his knees, using his own strength to lift his lanky body. All the men stand to say goodbye, Karl and Nick being swept up in an unexpected but not unwelcome hug. 

George happily takes Nick and Karls’ place in his brothers’ arms, allowing his frail body to be embraced by the one man who he truly loves.

George hugs him for another few minutes, refusing to let go until Wilbur unattached himself first. Wilbur and George share a few whispered words before Clay and Wilbur leave to the parking lot again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos fuel me!! again, sorry this is the worst thing that has literally ever been written my bad  
> [ my twitter again ](https://twitter.com/skoonk7) come yell at me i guess?  
> reading this makes me want to throw up sorry its BADDDD


	12. sundays that once were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur and George have a call with their parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW CHARACTERS IN THIS CHAPTER!!! NEW STUFF!!!  
> big thanks sxmplyfxndoms and iamdangernoodle on twt for responding to my desperate tweets

Another conversationally stunted ride to Wilburs’ hotel later and Clay returns to his home, criminally speeding and forcing new laws to be created to avoid whatever auto maneuvers he pulled. Unlocking his apartment door to find his found-family still sitting in the same spots, save for Nick resting his head on Georges’ lap getting head scratches, filled the blond with buzzing tingles in his chest. 

“Hi, everyone,” He closes the door gently with a click, slipping off his shoes near the entrance while fiddling with the lock. 

“Hey, me and Karl are going to go back to our apartments for tonight,” George whispers, continuing his motions of scratching the alphas’ scalp. Clay tries his best to not look too deflated. 

“Okay, want me to pick you up tomorrow when I get Wilbur?” His upset tone betrays the kindness in the offer, sad eyes and pouty lips subtle. The scent that taints the air grows into weak waves and dying palm trees.

“Yes, of course, idiot. I’m just going back so I can be with my cat and have clothes and stuff, and don’t worry, my neighbour has been feeding her while I’ve been here.” George shuts down every objection to abusing his cat before they even start, watching all the men open their mouths to close them shortly after. 

“Your neighbour?” Karl asks as he grabs various articles of his clothing that have been scattered throughout the apartment, each piece slowly becoming something of Nick or Clays’. Every male in the pack wears something of the head alphas’, with Nick openly wearing everything Clays’, George covered in a hoodie he drowns in, and Karl wearing his shirt and Nicks’ sweatpants. 

“Yeah, Alex. He’s a small Mexican beta who is super loud but takes care of my apartment when I’m out and brings me dinner every now and again, so we’ve made friends.” The brunette omega follows Karls’ example, gathering various possessions while talking to make this whole process smoother. 

Clay bristles at the idea of another male, beta or not, talking to George from outside the pack. He pointedly shoves that possessive part of his nature into a small corner of his mind to rot, die and stay dead.

The blond denies any offers to take his clothing back from either omega, allowing both males to keep the items drenched in the familial scent of a happy pack. If either of them inhale the cloth deeply, no one says anything. 

The quiet conversation does its best to keep away the impending departure of both omegas, though the time arrives with a buzzing of Georges’ phone. 

“Oh, it’s Wilbur, he said-” The heterochromatic eyes grow wide and he looks up at Clay with a desperate plea, signaling all parties that they need to leave immediately. 

They leave quickly, waving a small goodbye to Nick, ignoring his calls for goodbye hugs. Each step to the car feels long to all men, set on edge by Georges’ growing anxiety and disgruntled packmate pheromones. 

Nobody complains about Clays’ speed as he whips onto the highway, each mouth closed and silent as they move towards Georges’ apartment. An impressive top-speed of one hundred and ten miles per hour and the crew arrive at the little apartment building, barely parking before George is leaping out with all his stuff in his hands and an unsettling look in his eye. 

Clay and Karl call their goodbyes to the rushing man, waiting until he was safe in the apartment to leave. They pull out of the guest spot in silence, tense air clearing as the man drenched in the pulse-spiking scent of anxiety had left the car. 

“I’ll text him later, see what’s going on.” Clays’ reassurance is followed by a comforting hand rubbing soft circles on the tall omegas’ thigh. 

The gut-wrenching text from his brother is what’s going on, the phone in his hand spelling doom for the heterochromatic omega. 

It reads, _“Mom and dad want to call us tonight, I’ll be at your place in thirty.”_ With nothing following it to ease the budding anxiety. 

The brunette doesn’t acknowledge the man in his apartment until the man speaks up. 

“Dude, what’s wrong? You fuckin’ reek.” Alex stands in his small kitchen with the gray cat curled happily in his arms, looking the picture of domestic comfort. George drops his phone in surprise, eyes whipping to assess the man in his home. 

Only when he recognizes the face and voice, finally connecting the obvious dots, does he bend to pick up his phone. A once over inspection for cracks later and the omega sits on his couch, attempting to relax but posture staying rigid. 

The annoying beta shuffles over to his couch, plopping down unceremoniously in the recliner next to George, still holding the cat in his arms. 

“Dude, seriously, what the fuck? You smell terrible, I thought you were with your alpha or something.” Alex sniffs the air again before his eyes harden to something uncharacteristically serious, “Did he hurt you? I’ll fuckin’ kill-” 

“No, Christ, no!” The omega puts a stop to that train of thought, pushing Alex back into the chair he had been slowly rising from. “Just- just some family stuff. My brother will be here any minute, think you can clear out?”

“Yeah, of course. Your little kitty here might like me more soon, watch out Georgie,” The beta puts an accent on his name, forcing a genuine smile and laugh from George. “Good, you smiled. Now, I expect all the tea over heavy drinks later, your treat?” He laughs as he sets the cat down on his warm spot on the blue recliner, grabbing his keys from near the door as he makes his exit. 

When he throws the door open a tall alpha man looks in the process of knocking, staring down incredulously at the beta who opened the door before his knuckles made contact. 

“That’s my leave, see ya, Gogs!” The beta slips under the giant form of Wilbur, using his raised arm to duck under and escape just a door over. Wilbur watches the barefoot man open his apartment door, standing stock still as the short brunet beta throws him a wink and a smile. 

Georges’ head turns at break-neck speeds to see his brother entering the apartment, large height ducking underneath the short door frame. 

“Fuck, thought I’d have more time,” He says it to himself, but Wilbur hears. “Hi, Bie.” 

He meets the brunet alpha at the door, wrapping his pale arms around the familiar torso in a gentle hug. When arms wrap back around him does he finally relax, the nostalgic protection washing over him in warm tides. 

“Come in, come in!” George shuts the door and brings his brother fully inside, leading him to the recliner Alex was previously on, going back to lock the entrance and grab water from the fridge. 

George finds his cat residing in Wilburs’ lap, the stylish outfit ruined by tufts of gray fur. Setting the water down on the coffee table, he finally sits down and relaxes his body into the cushioning. 

Their peaceful moment of silence breaks with the buzzing of Wilburs’ phone, similar to how the quiet trance from earlier was broken. Georges’ mind reels at the thought, that in less than an hour his entire mood has been ruined and uprooted. 

Wilbur answers it without hesitating, moving the cat to stand and place himself on the couch next to George, using the water to prop his phone up and show their parents both of them together. 

“Hi, mom, dad.” Wilbur says, nudging the star-struck omega to greet them as well. All he can manage is a small wave. 

“Hello, William.” George watches his brother attempt to cover a cringe upon hearing his birth name. “Hello, George.” 

Spikes of anxiety roll through his pale body, skin breaking out with goosebumps and internal temperature rising with fear. He wipes the sweat from his palms on his pants. 

“Hi, mom. Hi, dad.” He finally gives them a small greeting, nervous smile playing onto his face as the air heavies with dread. Wilbur puts a comforting hand on the back of his neck, slowing rubbing the tension from his neck. 

“God, you baby him. Don’t you see he’ll never grow up?” His mother's voice invades the comforting thoughts he had been enjoying with the soothing hand on his neck, shaking him from the fantasy and back into reality. 

“You’re pissed if you think he’ll ever-” Wilbur opens his mouth to cut their father off, but George strikes first. 

“I’m right fucking here, thank you.” He doesn’t need to see Wilburs’ expression to smell his pride, the hand squeezing his nape in a faux pat on the back for standing up to them. 

“America has made you manky, shut your mouth and listen to what we have to say.” His dad butts in again, clear anger rising from the pixels on the screen. Wilbur nudges him as he’s about to open his mouth again, silent plea to stay quiet and get this ordeal over with. 

“We wanted to talk to you about Niki,” The alpha next to him tenses every muscle in his body, locking his jaw to keep it shut and fingers flexing in restraint in his lap. The comforting hand on Georges’ neck falls. 

“We’ve found an omega for you, she’s beautiful. She’s smart, pretty, and we’re good friends with the family.” There’s the real purpose behind this call or proposed arrangement, to make amends in social standings that both sons have ruined. 

“We’ve found an alpha for you, George. They’re an old connection but that alpha is strong, rich, handsome. Couldn’t get better for your kind, could it?” His mother delivers this news to him, her deadpan words ricocheting through the omega. 

Wilbur starts first, “I’m staying with Niki. End of the story.” His curt words garner exasperated scoffs from their parents, followed with overlapping rebuttals and arguments. 

“I’ve found an alpha here, so, no thank you.” George slips that into the chaos of his parents arguing, expecting it to go quietly unheard much like everything else he has ever said. 

The noise on the other end of the line goes dead for a couple seconds, blanketing the room in stomach-churning dread. 

“We should have never let you go to the states, of course you got knocked up again!” Those words cut deep into the walls he’s thrown up, each syllable chipping into the brick with expert ease. 

“I did not get knocked up!” The omega yells, face turning red and posture straightening as he prepares for a fight. “Fuck you! I didn’t get knocked up the first time, I was raped! You didn’t care if I died that night, you cared about your reputation! I’ve found an alpha here, and a pack, and you can go fuck yourself!” 

Wilbur makes a motion to stop George, which is easily shrugged off. He continues in the silence of his parents, the surface tension of his emotional water glass finally breaking with this last drop. 

“You have been every reason things have gone wrong in my life, and I came here to get the fuck away from you! You didn’t ‘let me’ go to the states, I left because I’m an adult and not some puny omega son you can forget about anymore! I’m a person- I’m-” Teardrops begin to litter on the collar of his alphas’ hoodie. 

A strong arm circles his shoulders, pulling his crying form into a strong body. Wilbur shushes him like a baby, rubbing circles onto his back, rocking them slowly. 

Wilbur looks at the phone over the omegas’ shaking shoulders, glaring obviously at their parents. “We are done here, if you want to talk, you can talk to me. You’re done with George.” 

“Oh, son, we are not done. Do not talk to us like that.” Their mother matches his hard-eyed glare, rocky-brown eyes staring directly at Wilbur. 

“We are done. I’m staying with Niki, which means Minx as well- I know it’s really her that you have an issue with,” He cuts off their fathers objection to Wilburs’ resolution, the coming protest shut down immediately. “I want Niki, Niki wants me and Minx, and I’m good with that. You need to get your heads out of your arses and crawl out of mine.”

“It’s not uncommon nowadays for polygamous mates, you’re just refusing to grow up. You either accept me and Gogs for who we are or never see your kids again.” George stirs in Wilburs’ chest, shifting his crying face to look up at his brother. 

His line of sight meets with the bottom of his strong chin, the reds in his skin appearing brownish-gray, each splotch of colour buried by his colourblindness. The dotting of unseeable colour alerts George to the true emotional state of his brother, each cluster a forming of stress hives. Light tear drops hit Georges’ scalp, wetting the roots of his hair with salty kisses. 

“You are making the wrong choice, William. Staying with your brother,” George tries and fails to not take it personally. “Picking that omega, going to America. Where did we go wrong?”

The omega whips his head around to the phone, breaking from the comforting embrace of his brother to stare at his mother. She looks as startled as the brunette does. 

George meets her eyes, searching for something. Something to show him that she has real emotion, that she just needs help understanding them. He turns up empty when she glares at him. 

The fleeting hope that his mother cares escapes like a breeze on a hot day, the moment ruined by the overwhelming heat that woman emits with every breath. The true sadness he heard in her voice when asking where they went wrong disappears as soon as it was said. 

“We shouldn’t have let you online, should not have sent you to that bloody public school.” George tucks his head back into Wilbur, ignoring the urge to argue that they did nothing wrong other than be _terrible fucking parents._

The pair shifts as the alpha reaches for the propped-phone, looking down at their parents for the last time. 

“Goodbye, mom, dad. Please don’t talk to George again, and don’t talk to me.” He doesn’t wait for a response before hanging up, tossing the phone somewhere on the rest of the couch. 

The previously stoic body deflates into the cushions, shuddering breaths filling the air as he recoils from that call. Every tense muscle relaxes at once, shaking the foundation George had been resting on and leaning the cuddling pair back into the couch. 

“I’m sorry, Gogs. I did not know that’s what it was about.” His deep voice rumbles sincere apologies, rumbling them both with each vibration. Slender fingers find their way into his brunette hair, scratching at the scalp in comforting strokes. 

The air swells with clean vanilla and honey apples, mixing well with the coffee and fresh laundry to smell like a Sunday morning that once was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would i be me if i didnt beg for comments and kudos? pls leave them i need them to function and feel wanted  
> this is so rushed and terrible and im running out of ideas fuck  
> [ my twitter ](https://twitter.com/skoonk7)

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos fuel me [ my twitter for yall ](https://twitter.com/skoonk7) yes i am so sorry that i link my twitter so many times posting notes on ao3 is so honking confusing


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